


Teatime With the Gods

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Crossover, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-18
Updated: 2006-03-18
Packaged: 2019-02-02 02:31:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12717864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: Just who would want to kidnap Doctor Daniel Jackson?  Companion/sequel to Wrong Turn.





	Teatime With the Gods

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

"Gamma, has the bait been placed?"

"It has, Alpha. The title will appear among the promotional materials."

"Excellent!"

"I confess to some degree of concern about this course of action, brothers."

"For the High Ones' sake, Delta! We discussed this at great length!"

"But if The Omega is as yet unaware of his significance, how can it benefit us to bring him in with us at this time?"

"We must have the opportunity to *make* him aware of his role in the shaping of the future. If we simply wait, his enlightenment could take years. And if the information recently acquired by Beta is accurate, his life may very well be at risk. As his recent experience has failed to open his mind, we simply cannot wait. We must be proactive, or the opportunity to advance our species may be lost to us forever."

"But what of the risk? The suggestion is that we contract with upsilons to bring him to us. How can we trust lower forms to understand his importance?"

"I've assigned the task of making these arrangements to my sigma primary. Not only is he utterly loyal, he is most practiced at intimidation. He will impress the upsilons sufficiently to guarantee that The Omega will not be inordinately damaged in the process of acquisition. Be at ease, brothers. Our ascension is assured; The Omega will guide us. We *must* proceed."

"What if...?"

"Delta. Does your resolve falter? You know that only the most superior will take the path. Must we contemplate reducing our numbers by one?"

"No, no. I'm fully invested in our goals, Alpha. I'm just concerned that we take the best possible road into our futures. And that The Omega isn't harmed."

"Then be at ease. All is going well. Within no more than a month, The Omega will be with us. Surely, now that he has experienced, however briefly, walking with the High Ones, he will quickly come to see his destiny. In the interim, we must continue our preparation. Theta?"

"Liquidation is proceeding as planned, Alpha. We are moving slowly so as to avoid panic among the upsilons. Here are the figures-current liquid assets and agenda for continued progress."

"Excellent. We must be prepared to offer the High Ones a tithe which illustrates our superior qualifications! And Beta, what of the new Texts?"

"They have been incorporated into the Guide. The new copies are in the members' alcoves."

"Again, excellent! I think that concludes our business for this gathering. Go, brothers in excellence. When next we meet, it will be to welcome The Omega among us!"

* * *

Jack knew he was smiling. He loved debriefings like this. Successful mission, happy Major Astrophysicist, happy General, and especially, happy Archaeologist. Which generally meant happy times upcoming for one aging colonel.

"This looks very promising, people. I believe we can turn the ongoing negotiations over to SG-9. Doctor Jackson, you're confident the Elders will accept a new primary negotiator?"

"Very, sir. I discussed the change with Ankeel pretty carefully. Their people are very comfortable with the concept of task assignment. They understand that I'm not the only spokesperson for my people."

"Excellent! And Major Carter, if you'd brief the technical team, as soon as Colonel Kovacek gives the go-ahead, we can proceed with the information exchange. Well done, SG-1. Thanks to you, we have a new and possibly very important ally."

"Thank you , sir. It was nothing." Jack began to rise from his seat.

"You know, they're a fascinating culture," Daniel mused, gaze distant. "The incorporation of their..."

"Daniel," O'Neill threatened.

Blue eyes snapped to his face, then dropped to the table-top. "Right. Okay, Jack. All finished now." Daniel's full lips twitched into a small smirk.

Jack reached out and gripped his shoulder, smiling indulgently. "I'm sure Nyan will be delighted to chew it all over with you. Tomorrow. Monday."

"Tomorrow. Got it." Daniel glanced back up toward Jack's face, favoring him with a knowing little smile.

"You got it. So... are we finished?"

The general was nodding, gathering up their mission reports. Carter was already on her feet, heading for the door, Teal'c close behind.

Daniel didn't move.

"Uh... General Hammond?"

The general turned back, brows high. "Was there something else, Doctor Jackson."

"No. Um, I mean, well, yes."

Jack felt the warmth of fond memory blossom in his gut. He hadn't heard this shy, fumbling version of Daniel for quite a while. Then he noticed the brochure in Daniel's hand.

Damn.

Daniel offered the slick, folded page to Hammond.

"Sir, I'd like permission to take a week to attend this conference."

Hammond's surprise was clear. He glanced down at the well-thumbed brochure. "'Cutting Edge Advances in Archaeology,'" he read. "Are you sure you want to do this, son?"

Jack winced. Exactly his argument, though he'd worded it in a bit more... earthy style. All Daniel needed was four or five days of scorn from the bozos who were supposed to be his peers.

He snorted softly. Peers. Right. "Peer" meant "equal," right? As if those old cranks were anything close to Daniel's *equal*.

And of course, they all thought Daniel was a disgrace-a crackpot. He remembered the one time he'd ventured into that academic world with Daniel. He'd been so outraged by the way those eggheads had shunned and disparaged his friend that he'd gone on the hunt.

Despite his worry over Daniel's plans, he couldn't help grinning a little. It had been a hell of a hoot, putting the fear of Apophis into those stuffed shirts. And watching the scorn turn magically into envy.

The grin vanished as he remembered the rest of it. Jealousy over unlimited government funding was one thing. Nothing he'd done had changed any minds about the quality of Daniel's work. He was still a worthless crackpot in their eyes. And Jack knew with complete certainty how much that mattered to Daniel.

Why the hell would Daniel choose to subject himself to that? It had taken a long time for him to throw off the pall of his treatment by the academics he'd always assumed would be his life-long companions. Jack still remembered the combination of determined belligerence and shy uncertainty which had characterized Daniel when he'd first encountered him. A man who was clearly accustomed to being a misfit wherever he ventured. But six years in this environment had changed him. Here at the SGC he was not only very well liked, but also valued as a unique and irreplaceable resource. He'd come into his own-a confident, highly respected man--and his demeanor had changed accordingly. He stood tall, looked people directly in the eyes.

The last thing Jack wanted to see was a return of the man those academic assholes had created.

The general opened the trifold brochure and read slowly through the description of the conference.

"Doctor Jackson..." He seemed a bit at a loss.

"Sir, I know there are dozens of archaeological conferences every year, and I never ask to attend. But there are a couple of things here that really interest me. And I promise I won't say anything I shouldn't. You can send someone with me if you wish."

Hammond's mouth dropped open in surprise. "Doctor Jackson... Son, I never for an instant thought you would. That's not my concern. There would be no need to send anyone with you. I just..." His small mouth pursed as he obviously searched for a delicate way to voice his worries. "Are you sure you want to subject yourself to this?"

Daniel grimaced, dropping his eyes to the stack of papers scattered on the table in front of him. "Well, I'm not wild about it. But I have gotten used to it, sir. And here..." He reached across the table to tap one entry on the list of featured presentations. "I'd really like to hear this talk."

Jack craned his neck to look over Hammond's shoulder. Daniel's long finger rested on a seemingly innocuous title. Jack frowned. Innocuous, unless you were Daniel Jackson. The title read, "Evidence of Cultural Interaction Among Ancient Civilizations," presented by Quincy Zeta.

"Shit, Daniel. What makes you think he's gonna have anything to say you didn't say eight years ago?"

"Possibly. But Jack... General Hammond, there's a pretty good chance he's got more than I did. After all, my... reputation isn't going to entice *anyone* to follow in my footsteps unless he's got excellent data to support his position. Also, I've never heard of him, and I keep up with the literature. Whoever he is, he's been working in isolation. I've looked at the abstract for this talk on the conference's web site, and he cites some of my work. I have to think he's been able to go further than I did, or he'd never dare put my name in his list of works cited. And over and above my *personal* interest, sir, any additional information he may have could easily be of concern to the SGC."

Hammond was nodding slowly. "I see your point, Doctor. But perhaps we should send someone else. There's no need to subject you to the mistaken opinions of your former colleagues."

Color touched Daniel's cheeks. "I appreciate your concern, sir, but I'm the best person there is to judge the significance of anything this Quincy Zeta may have found. And there's another thing..."

"Yes?"

Daniel's finger slid down the list to a more conventional title, presented by a Henry Alanson. "I've been following this man's work. He's young, creative, and forward thinking. He's also brilliant. I was hoping that I could meet him, talk to him a bit. I think he'd be a great candidate for us to recruit, one of the most promising I've seen since we lost Robert."

Hammond leaned back in his chair, gaze fixed on the brochure. Again, he was nodding.

"Very well, Doctor Jackson. Make the request for the time official. And work up a dossier on Doctor Alanson. I'll take a close look and consider the recommendation."

Daniel was smiling happily.

"Thank you, sir. I'm sure it will be worth it."

Hammond lifted his eyes to stare at Daniel. "I'd say 'Have fun,' son, but I have a feeling you aren't going to enjoy yourself very much."

Daniel's smile widened. "Yes I will. You'd be surprised how much fun a convention can be."

He stood and shook the general's hand, then turned to Jack as Hammond left the room.

"Oh, yeah," Jack snorted. "Loads of fun watching everyone talk about you behind their hands."

"Jack."

"Daniel. Let me come."

"No."

"Daniel!"

"Sorry, Jack. Much as I enjoyed your performance the last time I turned you loose on a room full of archaeologists, I'm actually hoping to keep a pretty low profile this time."

"I can do low."

Daniel laughed--that rare, completely delighted little laugh that never failed to bring a smile to Jack's lips.

"Jack, you couldn't manage a low profile in a gathering of academics if your life depended upon it. You just... well, you're just noticeable."

Jack knew he was pouting. "I can, too. I can if *your* life depends on it."

"My life *won't* depend on it, Jack. My dignity. My self-esteem, maybe. But not my life. You stay home."

"Daniel..."

"Jack. You stay."

Scowling, Jack followed his partner out the door. He wasn't finished. He had a whole week and a half to wear his archaeologist down, and he never gave up. He might be noticeable, but he was also damned persistent. No way was he throwing Daniel to those nibbling minnows. Not without him to put all of the wriggly little bastards into a jar.

* * *

Daniel hadn't mentioned the subject on the ride home. He seemed happy and relaxed, chatting about the people they'd been negotiating with on P2G 589, discussing the repairs on his currently undriveable vehicle, gossiping about the current stories circulating through the halls of the SGC. But he'd diverted every attempt Jack had made to introduce the topic of that damned conference.

As the truck slowed to a halt in the driveway, Daniel opened his door and slid out before Jack could grab him.

He scrambled out the driver's side door and shouted after the retreating back, "You can't dodge me forever, Dannyboy! And I *never* give up!"

Daniel cast an amused look over his shoulder as he unlocked the door to the house. Without replying, he slipped into the darkness of the front hall.

Jack sighed and shook his head. Yeah, he never gave up. But Daniel's middle name really *should* be "Stubborn," and he had a feeling he was going to be doing a lot of talking and very little actual persuading. Of course, there *were* other means...

Smiling at the thought of those means, Jack followed Daniel up the path to the house. Their house. Of course, nobody else knew it was *theirs*-at least, not officially. But nobody had raised any objections when Jack had invited the newly un-ascended Daniel, still rather confused, and with his memory in tatters, to stay in his home. And nobody seemed to have noticed that, memories long-since recovered, the archaeologist was still living in Jack's house.

And no way in hell was Jack planning to point it out to anyone. He had Daniel exactly where he wanted him to be. Or maybe Daniel had him. Same thing in the end.

He pulled the door closed behind him, the rattle of pots from the kitchen telling him where his quarry had run to ground.

He stepped into the kitchen doorway, leaning against the jamb with arms crossed over his chest.

"You can't avoid this discussion forever, Daniel."

Daniel grinned at him across the butcher-block island, hands busy preparing to chop vegetables.

"Takes two to have a discussion, Jack."

"Daniel..."

Daniel just shook his head, rummaging in the cupboard for a pan and his steamer.

"Why don't you get that chicken started, Jack. I can't put the vegetables in until it's nearly ready."

Jack sighed, shaking his head, and gave in. But only for now. His growling stomach was threatening to become a third party in their little conversation. Had to feed the dragon.

But he wasn't ready to concede the ground. There was a lot of evening ahead of them.

* * *

As usual, Jack's eyes cracked open just in time to keep the damned alarm from scaring another few years off his life. He slammed his hand down just as it made that little click that said it was ready to scream.

He stretched slightly, careful not to disturb the warm body that shared his bed. Lifting himself on a stiffened arm, he spent a few moments just enjoying the sight of his companion's sleeping face. Once again thanking the vagaries of the universe for giving Daniel back to him after he'd been sure he'd lost him forever.

From his side of the gulf, it didn't look like there was a hell of a lot of difference between "ascension" and death. Either way, Daniel was gone, and he was left behind.

Gently, he lowered himself back onto that warm body, lining his lips up to caress Daniel's sleep-soft mouth. He felt his partner's body awaken slowly, felt hands on his sides, sliding around his back until he was enclosed within the strength of muscular arms.

He slid his lips to the side, nuzzling against the bristles of Daniel's unshaven cheek.

"Mmm... G'd morning," Daniel murmured.

"Rise and shine, Danny."

Daniel's body quaked with his silent laughter. "Rose already, colonel, sir," he whispered as he shifted to rub his morning erection against Jack's thigh.

"My, my. Thought we'd worn that boy out last night."

More laughter quivering beneath him. "He's tougher than that. Been training with the marines."

Jack jerked upward, scowling down into mischievous blue eyes.

"He *better* not be."

Laughing, Daniel wriggled out from under him, rolling out of the bed and heading for the bathroom.

"Gotta keep in shape, Jack," he taunted over his shoulder.

"Hey!" Jack scrambled across the bed and onto his feet, then paused, anticipation curving his mouth as he heard the shower start. Someone needed a bit of straightening out, and the shower was an excellent venue for bringing his archaeologist back in line.

* * *

"Now, about this conference we're going to..." Jack mumbled around a mouthful of omelet.

"Me. I'm going. You're staying."

"How many days we gonna be gone?"

"*I'll* be gone five days. You're not going anywhere."

"Where we staying?"

Daniel's coffee mug clunked sharply against the table's surface. "You. Are. Not. Going."

"Yes. I am."

"Don't you trust me to take care of myself?"

"Of course I do."

"Are you afraid I'll be seduced by some hot young anthropologist?"

Jack scowled. "Not a chance."

"Are you nervous that I'll say more than I should?"

"For a genius, you can be a real lunkhead, Doctor Jackson!"

"Then why. There must be some reason you can't stand the thought of me going to Atlanta without you to hold my hand. What are you afraid I'll do?"

"Damn it! I just don't want you to have to listen to those... those... poopheads..."

"Poopheads?" Daniel's frown softened, then twitched into a tiny grin.

"Yeah. Poopheads. Daniel, you're ten times the archaeologist of any of those idiots. I just hate the idea of you having to sit there, knowing what they're saying and thinking about you... It just isn't right. You need me there to remind you."

"Remind me?"

"Yes. Remind you that those who really know the score appreciate how valuable you are. Remind you that *you're* right and the whole pack of them are wrong, wrong, wrong."

The small grin had graduated to a big, fond smile. Daniel stood and leaned across the table to smack a firm kiss on Jack's mouth.

"Thank you, Jack. I love you, too. And you're not going."

"Daniel!"

Daniel just waved over his shoulder as he grabbed his jacket and brief case and headed out for the truck.

* * *

Jack scowled through the big windows at the innocent airliner waiting to swallow his archaeologist. Predictably, he'd lost the argument. Daniel hadn't played fair. No sooner had they arrived back at the SGC than he'd recruited Hammond to back him.

So Jack was staying behind. He wasn't happy about it. His stomach was jumping all over the place. But he was staying behind.

"Jack, I'll be fine." Daniel's voice was gentle, with that tender overtone that Jack knew was saved just for him.

"I don't like this, Daniel."

"You never like it when you lose. I'll only be gone five days. You'll survive."

"Danny... I've got a bad feeling about this."

"Jack..."

"I mean it. Crawly skin, itchy spine, the whole nine yards. Don't go."

"Ja-ack!" Daniel rolled his eyes. "I'm going. In fact, I'm going right now. So either let it go and give me a proper good bye, or go home and sulk. Up to you."

Jack stepped back, forcing his unsettled stomach to calm. "Okay, Daniel. Sorry. Didn't mean to be a pest. But..."

"I know. You worry about me. I appreciate that. But for heaven's sake, what do you imagine can happen at an academic conference?"

"Who the hell knows! I never did trust those science geeks!"

Daniel's eyes narrowed, brows twitching together.

"All right, all right. Present company excepted. And Carter. Most of the time. But these guys-what the hell do they know about anything?"

"Since they're so clueless, just what danger could I be in?"

Stymied, Jack scowled. "I hate it when you do that."

"What? Make sense?"

"Make stuff I don't like make sense!"

"Look, Jack. Just say goodbye, then go and pester Sam about that trap she's been fussing over. I'm just going to Atlanta for a few days of my kind of fun and games. I'll be fine."

"Yeah. You said that." Jack sighed and gripped Daniel's shoulder. Damn. He was still surprised at the bulk of those shoulders. "Take care, Danny." He dropped his voice to just above a whisper. "Love ya."

Daniel's eyes warmed. "You know how I feel. Have fun. Don't drive Sam too crazy."

And then he was gone, down the tunnel toward the airplane.

And Jack's stomach was once again twitching like crazy.

* * *

Daniel dropped down onto the bed, body drooping with exhaustion.

What a day. What a damned frustrating, impossible day.

A powerful bolt of longing shot through him. He let his gaze slide to his suit jacket, abandoned on the chair by the window. If he squinted, he could almost imagine he could see a throbbing glow from the cell phone in the inside breast pocket.

Abruptly giving in to temptation, he lurched to his feet and burrowed into the coat, exclaiming softly in triumph as his fingers closed around the cool metal device.

He carried his prize back to the bed, falling back against the stacked pillows as he punched the familiar number.

//"O'Neill!"//

He grinned at the beloved bark.

"You trying to scare off telemarketers, Jack?"

//"Danny!"//

He heard the scrape of wood against concrete, then the unmistakable slam of a door.

//"You okay? No problems on the flight?"//

Daniel felt the tension drain out of his muscles as he listened to the familiar voice.

"I'm fine. No problems. At least, not on the flight."

//"What the hell does that mean? Those stuffed shirts giving you grief?"//

"Well... Let's just say that I could have used you today."

//"Told ya. You need me."//

"Well, I could have used Colonel Asshole today. The one with the sunglasses and the attitude. My face aches from the fake smile."

//"Yeah? What else is hurting, Daniel?"//

"Nothing. Just..."

//"Right. I know. They being bastards?"//

"No more than I expected. Guess I'm just feeling kind of lonely."

//"Well, we both know whose fault that is. I told you I should come along."//

Daniel laughed softly.

"Right now, I'm really wishing I'd listened."

//"Oh, Danny. You are way too stubborn for your own good."//

"Guess you're right. But I could handle the crap..."

//"Did you just say 'crap'?"//

"You know I did. I'm just not making any headway on my personal projects. Zeta hasn't signed in yet, and nobody seems to know anything about him. I called the number he provided to the convention organizers, but it's been disconnected. The comments from those I've asked... Well, let's just say I hope he's got a thick skin."

//"Look at the bright side. Pretty soon, you'll have company out there on that ledge."//

"Ha, ha. I'm just thinking he... smells a bit. I think I'm beginning to feel a bit of your crawly spine."

//"Damn! I'll be there..."//

"No, Jack. You won't. I can handle this myself, at least for now. If I'm still feeling this way tomorrow night, you can come. He's supposed to speak Saturday, so he pretty much has to appear soon. I need to meet him. I'll know more then."

//"Danny..."//

"Then there's Doctor Alanson."

//"That your recruit?"//

"It isn't looking much like it. Soon as he heard my name, he pretty pointedly lost interest in talking to me."

//"Damn. Well, if his mind is that closed, we probably can't reform him."//

"I guess so. But I just think he'd be excellent. If I can just get him to actually sit and *talk* to me."

//"You'll manage. Nobody does persistent like you, Daniel. And there's no one on *this* planet who can resist you once you start talking."//

Daniel chuckled.

"My fan club. Love you, too, Jack. And I think you may just have forgotten one or two pretty resistant people. So... you alone?"

//"Yup. Locked in all by my lonesome. And I do mean lonesome."//

"Got a few minutes?"

//"I've got as many minutes as you want, Dannyboy. Want me to talk dirty to you?"//

Laughing, Daniel stretched and settled more deeply into the pillows.

"No, just... talk. Just want to hear your voice for a while."

//"Oh, I think I can manage that. Sure you don't want a bit of 'you know what'?"//

"No, Jack. Just talk."

//"Well, you'd never believe what Carter's got going. Did you know someone's been hacking your files?"//

"What? My SGC files?"

//"Oh, yeah. Hammond's spittin' nails. Carter's having the time of her life rigging the computers to clobber the bastard the next time he tries."//

"So what did they get?"

He used his toes to pry his shoes off, kicking them onto the floor.

//"Well, seems they've got a thing for all that ancient god stuff. Carter says..."//

Daniel let his eyes slide shut, basking in the comfort of Jack's voice.

* * *

"Things are progressing as planned, gentlemen. One of our sigmas has reported that The Omega has arrived."

"And the collection."

"Well in hand. My sigma primary has contracted with an organization of upsilons to complete the acquisition."

"Alpha, I'm still not happy about this."

"We've agreed on this move, Delta! Either you join us, and move with us on to the higher plane, or you leave this circle!"

"Yes, yes. I'll go along with it. But I would like to make my reservations known. I fear we may not find The Omega amenable to our plans if we treat him so unkindly."

"We can bring him to understand. We've discussed this, Delta. The matter is settled."

"I have an additional small concern, gentlemen."

"Beta?"

"I suspect that my search for new Texts has been detected."

"You are discovered?"

"No, I don't think so. I see no indication that my identity has been compromised. But the incursion has been uncovered."

"Hmmm. I think that we need not overly concern ourselves. The culmination of our efforts is at hand. Very shortly, the most complete discovery will be rendered meaningless."

"So I thought. This is why I hadn't mentioned my concerns to you privately."

"Very well. Any other concerns, gentlemen? Excellent. When next we meet, The Omega should be among us! Be prepared, my friends. The upper levels await us!"

* * *

Daniel could hear his teeth grinding as Nathaniel Jorgensen walked away.

He could do this. They were just words, Words from men and women without the advantages of his specialized knowledge and experience. Just words.

Just words. Words from *morons*. Words from *stupid*, *narrow-minded* *idiots* who wouldn't know an original thought if it kicked them in the rear!

Whoa! He smiled slightly. He needed to get a handle on this business of channeling Jack. He suspected this growing tendency would seriously undermine his diplomatic effectiveness.

He turned sharply as he sensed a presence behind his left shoulder.

"Jackson."

His brows rose.

"Doctor Alanson."

The younger man tipped his head in the direction of the departing Jorgensen. "Not very polite."

Daniel grimaced. "Welcome to my world."

Alanson contemplated him for a moment.

"I did some reading last night."

"So... Now you know why..." Daniel also glanced after the rude anthropologist.

"Actually..." Alanson's voice faded. He chewed on his lower lip for a moment, eyes searching Daniel's face. "Actually, I have to say... Um... I... Well, I'd never actually read any of your work before."

Daniel smiled gently. "Heard plenty about it, I imagine."

Alanson nodded slowly. "Oh, yes. From the moment I expressed an interest in ancient languages."

"Yet you're courageous enough to be seen having a civil conversation with me?"

Alanson abruptly grinned. "Guess I'm a risk taker." He shifted his drink to his left hand and extended the right. "Henry. Call me Hank."

"Daniel."

"Look, are you really devoted to the idea of attending any of the sessions for the next couple of hours?"

Feeling the warmth of impending success, Daniel grinned. "Nothing I can't read up on later."

"Great. How about sitting down and talking over lunch?"

"I'd be delighted. The hotel dining room all right?"

Gently, he escorted his catch out into the lobby.

* * *

Jack strolled idly through the halls, doing his best to ignore the siren call of the stack of paperwork sitting in his "In" tray. 

"Hey, Carter," he called, peeking through her lab door. "Are we having fun?"

He could see the top of her blond head behind the computer monitor. She didn't look up at the sound of his voice.

"Actually, sir, this is really interesting."

"I'm sure. What are we enjoying here?"

She glanced up briefly as he slid into a chair beside her, then dropped her gaze back to her screen.

"I've gotten some interesting information on our data thief, sir. I think he's NID."

"Well, surprise, surprise. But what the hell would an NID gook need to sneak in for? They get everything we report."

"But this guy wasn't after our official reports, sir. He was after Daniel's personal work. The papers he's written about the historical stuff. Pretty amazing work."

"And we *don't* send those to NID?"

"No, sir. They're in Daniel's private little corner of our databanks. I hadn't realized... did you know he's written nearly a hundred papers? It looks to me like they're pretty much publication-ready. Or at least, ready for submission for peer review."

Jack frowned. "He knows he can't publish any of that stuff."

"Yes, sir. He knows. But, well, he is who he is. Daniel grew up in the academic world. This is the way he tests his ideas-by organizing and preparing them for the scrutiny of his colleagues. The fact that the only people who will ever read these are the other archaeologists and anthropologists at the SGC doesn't make any difference. This is the way he does things."

"And I suppose there's always the chance..."

"There is that. But that's not why he does it, Colonel. Anyway, there are some odd things about our intruder. The access *isn't* actually NID, but there are aspects of the way he's operating that definitely smell like they came from the same garbage dump."

Jack knew he was scowling.

"Damn, I hate those guys."

"Me, too. But I've developed a little surprise. It'll make it a lot harder for anyone to access our data in the first place, and will also give us an automatic start at a back-trace. I'm thinking we've got someone from the NID freelancing. He's accessing the SGC computers from some non-government location. But this should catch him the next time he tries it."

The scowl curved into a smug smile. They could be annoying as hell, but God, he loved having geniuses on his team.

"Great work, Carter." He slapped her soundly in the shoulder. "Glad you're on our side."

She smiled and waved as he stood and wandered back out the lab's door.

He was grinning as he meandered on down the hallway. Maybe Teal'c would like a bit of sparring practice. He'd rather get his clock cleaned by his big friend than give in and hit the damned paperwork.

* * *

As the door closed behind his customer, Andrew Campbell allowed himself to smile. Weird as an albino crow, that one. But the deal would bring in a nice piece of change, and it should be a nice, easy pickup.

He stood and stretched, then strode out his office door and across the hall to grab a beer from the fridge, contemplating the man who'd just departed as he took a deep draw from the bottle. Guy gave him the creeps. But his money was as good as anyone else's.

He moved back to his office and grabbed the phone. Butch and Bobby could handle this one during their coffee break.

* * *

Jack leaped on the phone before it had finished its first ring.

"Daniel?"

//"Hey, Jack."//

"You all right?"

Laughter. //"Oh, yes. Today was much better."//

"Those low-lifes leaving you alone?"

//"Jaa-aack. They aren't low-lifes. Just a bit uninformed."//

"Ignorant."

//"Outside the loop."//

"Narrow-minded."

//"Opinionated."//

"Bigoted."

More laughter. //"Okay. Ignorant, narrow-minded and bigoted low-lifes. But not Alanson."//

"You talked to him."

//"Oh, yes. I had lunch, and then dinner with him. Jack, he's going to be terrific. And I think he'll bite. There's a copy of the convention program on my desk with his basic vitals in it. Can you start the security stuff?//

"You got it. What about Zeti?"

//"Zeta?"//

"Zeta, Zoopy, Zitty, Whoever. You talk to him yet?"

//"He hasn't made an appearance, which is a little odd."//

"How odd?"

//"Relax, Jack. I have to say that, under the circumstances, if I were a virtually unknown archaeologist preparing to give a talk on a subject with the kind of history this one has, I might hesitate to make an early appearance myself."//

"Nah. You'd go early just to stare the old porkers down."

Again laughter. "Maybe. If I could bring you along. But you can certainly see why he might elect to leave it until the last minute."

"Yeah. He's a chicken."

//"Jack, be nice. Although... I have to admit that it doesn't increase my confidence in what he's preparing to say. If he's courageous enough to present it, why would he avoid defending himself to the people who matter? He'll never be able to publish his work if he can't get it past peer review, and a lot of the peers he needs to worry about are right here."//

"Speaking of publishing and peer review, Carter found some very interesting things while poking around in the dusty musty corners of our data bases."

For a moment, Daniel was silent. //"Yes?"//

"Someone's been a busy, busy boy."

Another, longer silence. //"You know I don't plan to..."//

"I know, Danny." Jack kept his voice gentle. "So does Carter, and so does the general. But that's quite a body of work."

//"Some day I may have to justify all of... you know... to someone who hasn't been in on things for years. I just needed to... um... get everything organized."//

"Yeah. Carter said something like that. It's just the way you do things. Relax, Daniel. Nobody's worried about you. We all know you're solid to the core. It was just a bit... surprising to realize that you'd been putting in all that time and effort on something that you're probably never going to be able to use."

//"Oh, I use it. And I'll continue to use it. What do you think is going to convince Alanson to accept our offer, Jack? We'll essentially be asking him to give up his life to the project. We ask that of all our scientific recruits. To an academic, publication is life. If we're going to ask someone to give up the right to publish what they discover, the inducement has to be pretty significant. And they have to really understand how monumentally important it is. That's the reason I write up what we find, Jack. No military mission report will *ever* convince someone like Hank Alanson. In a lot of ways, he's *me* ten years or so ago. I know what it would have taken to convince me, so I know what it takes to convince the Hank Alansons of the world."//

Jack was nodding slowly. Trust his Danny to have all his little godlings in a row. "Makes sense, Daniel. Makes really *good* sense. Just wondering why it has to be *you* to spend all those hours."

//"It isn't just me, Jack. Though I suppose I'm the only one who does it with the full realization that I'll *never* be able to publish a word of it. But all of our scientists prepare similar documentation of their work."//

Jack grimaced. He'd talked with Carter about just that subject. Yes, they all wrote up their work, but none with the thoroughness and polish of publication-ready papers. None but Daniel. And none of the others had generated the sheer volume of work. "Okay, I get it. I just guess I'm feeling a little deprived."

//"Deprived?"//

"Yeah. You've been off using those talented fingers of your typing up all of those papers. There's a lot better use for them, you know?"

//"Jaaa-aaack! That's not deprived. That's depraved."//

He grinned, slouching back into the cushions of his couch.

"So, Danny. What you up to this evening?"

//"Oh, nothing. Just thought I'd waste an evening here in my room."//

"Waste? *Waste*? Oh, Danny, Danny. We can't have that. Your time is *valuable*. Let's see what we can do about using it wisely..."

* * *

Daniel settled his jacket on his shoulders, tugging the cuffs of his shirtsleeves gently. He smiled ruefully at his reflection. One thing his years at the SGC had certainly improved was his dress sense. All the nagging from Jack and the pointed hints of Sam and Janet had gradually pushed him a long way from the "shaggy geek" Jack used to call him. Among other interesting descriptive names.

His smile softened, remembering the hour he'd spent on the phone with Jack the night before. Maybe he'd skip the final day of the conference. He'd met and enticed Alanson. Today he'd finally corner Zeta. He'd have accomplished everything he came here for. He could reschedule his flight for tonight.

He chuckled slightly as he envisioned Jack's reaction to finding him waiting at home a full day earlier than expected.

He'd really enjoyed the hours spent with Alanson yesterday. Definitely a good prospect, and good prospects were scarce. And, if Daniel weren't mistaken, he was ready to hear some of the pretty unbelievable information Daniel and the rest of the SGC scientists had to tell him. Just had to wait for the security checks to finish, then entice the good doctor to Colorado. He'd be a terrific addition to Daniel's slowly growing staff of creative, intuitive social scientists.

Daniel grabbed his briefcase and headed eagerly for the door. Zeta would certainly show today. His presentation was at eleven; he'd have to appear some time before then. And Daniel had a few things he wanted to discuss with the elusive Doctor Zeta. Or maybe that should be illusive, as the man was thus far no more than a phantom.

He was humming softly as he stepped out into the Atlanta sunshine. Yesterday's success had turned things around quite happily. He had a very promising recruit, had spent a happy hour cuddling long distance, and was more than eager to move tonight's action a bit closer to home, so to speak. One more task, and he could brush the dust of this pointless confabulation of airheads off his pants and get back to the reality of his life. His admittedly rather bizarre, but infinitely satisfying life.

He jerked to a halt as he felt hands on both his arms.

"Hey, Doc," a voice whispered to his right.

"Someone wants to meet you," to his left.

The hands tightened, pulling him down the steps. And that niggling in his gut was back ten-fold.

"No!" he snarled, throwing his weight backward. "Get your hands off me!"

His lurch freed him of the man to the right, but the thug on the left hung on. Daniel grabbed the imprisoning fingers and jerked, satisfaction blossoming at the man's involuntary squeal of pain.

But the delay was enough, and the second man was back. Daniel drove his elbow into the bastard's eye, spinning back to face the squealer. He heard a roar, then stumbled as something hit his head. A second blow to his left arm brought blinding pain, and he desperately tried to stagger away from the assault.

He fought, but felt himself sinking at the harsh pain to his ribs, his back, again to his head. And then blackness.

* * *

Jack scowled at his In box. Surely he'd finished up more than that? He'd been at this for at least seven or eight hours.

He glanced at the clock.

Well, one to two hours, anyway. Ninety minutes.

And he was bored.

Bored. Bored. Bored.

His gaze snuck toward the telephone.

//Nah, hands off.//

He looked back at the clock. 10:05 a.m. They'd be in between those presentation things, wouldn't they?

Near enough.

He grinned and grabbed the handset. Daniel'd run off on him, left him to his own devices. It was only right that he helped keep the damned boredom at bay.

Gleefully, he dialed the familiar cell number.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

Ring.

*click* //"You've reached Doctor Daniel Jackson. I'm unable to talk to you at the moment. Please leave a message."// *beep*

Jack pulled the phone away from his ear and frowned down at it.

Where the hell was Daniel?

Grumbling, he hung up and grabbed the next file in the stack.

* * *

//Hurt. Oh, God. He hurt.//

//And he was cold. Where'd he left his shoes?//

//Ow! Hands on him. Low, comforting voice?//

//Jack? Oh, please, please be Jack.//

//God, I want you to be Jack.//

//Arrgh! No!//

* * *

This was getting more than annoying.

Four times he'd tried to call Daniel. Four times, no answer. Not to the cell, not to the hotel room phone.

He just didn't buy it.

Where the hell was Daniel?

* * *

"High One?"

"Yes! Come, Sigma. Has he arrived?"

"Lord Alpha, I fear I bring unhappy news."

"Unhappy?"

"Yes, High One. The upsilons have acquired The Omega, but..."

"But? What? Where is he?"

"I'm afraid they damaged him rather significantly, sir."

"Damaged! Did you not explain to them how important it was that he be in good health?"

"Certainly, Lord Alpha. Apparently he resisted their collection team."

"Where is he? How badly is he damaged?"

"I felt the need to consult with you, High One. I instructed them to get him medical attention, and indicated that we would expect a significant reduction in their fees."

"Reduction! You are to take several of your fellow sigmas and return to these upsilons. We will pay nothing, and we will retrieve The Omega! I don't care what measures you must take... do not leave him with them again."

"As you wish, High One."

"Go! I must call the Council to discuss this terrible mischance!"

* * *

"Damn that asshole! How dare he try this sort of crap? We agreed on the price; he's gonna pay every fuckin' cent!"

Campbell slammed the office door and slumped down into his chair. He scowled darkly at the pile of belongings on his desk. A very fine suit coat, a pair of black shoes, a briefcase, laptop, glasses, watch, cell phone, wallet.

Lurching back to his feet, he grabbed the jacket. If he was gonna get stiffed over this, he'd get what he could from this stuff. The coat was a fair fit. A bit broad in the shoulders, but a real nice piece of goods. He grabbed the wallet and stripped out the cash. He almost grabbed the credit cards, but that was a fool's game. The watch was a very good one. Should be able to hock it for a bit of cash. The laptop as well.

The phone rang for about the fiftieth time since they'd brought the stupid scientist in.

"Shut up, damnit!"

Snarling, he grabbed the offending bit of metal and plastic, threw it on the ground and smashed it under his foot. Not surprisingly, the ringing stopped.

Belatedly, he regretted smashing the stupid thing. It might have been worth something.

He shrugged and grabbed a plastic garbage bag, stuffing the wallet, the crushed phone and the rest of the miscellaneous articles in and wrenching the ties closed.

He jerked the door open and shouted, "Butch!"

The slightly battered thug stuck his head out of the neighboring door.

"Take this junk a coupla miles away and dump it."

* * *

Jack stared at the handset, puzzled. What the hell was that?

He pushed down on the disconnect button and tried again.

This time he got no connection.

And now he was worried.

He lurched to his feet and headed for Hammond's office.

* * *

Noise. Pain. Voices. But not...

He slitted his eyes open, the light spearing straight to his brain.

Slowly, the brilliance settled. And he saw...

"Sam..."

He saw her, didn't he? Blond, in the light. But...

"Sam?"

//No. Not Sam. And not Jack.//

Deep voice. Talking to him. Deep voice, but not one of his voices.

"Wh... who...?"

More talking, questioning.

//No. Don't know you. Won't...//

Desperately, he clamped his lips shut and closed his eyes.

* * *

Jack paced restlessly, casting periodic glares in Carter's direction. She and a couple of their other computer geeks were crouched over a monitor. Her long fingers were flying, tapping away at the keys.

"Well?"

"Sir, we'll call you when we know anything."

"Damnit, Carter! Daniel's in trouble right now! I know it!"

"I agree, sir. But if you've got any other suggestions, I'm listening. Otherwise, would you please let us work on this?

"Arrgh!" He kicked the doorjamb as he stalked out of the control room.

He headed back to Hammond's office. He was heading for Atlanta, and he didn't give a shit who tried to stop him.

* * *

"My Lord Alpha?"

The shake in his sigma primary's voice was unusual. He gestured impatiently, indicating the man should enter the council room.

"Sir... I..."

"Where is The Omega, Sigma?"

"Sir..." The sigma drew a deep breath and straightened his body, forcing his head up. "We were unable to extract The Omega from the hands of the upsilons. When we arrived, the place was overrun with minions of the upsilon government."

"Police?" Alpha felt his chest tighten. "The police have stolen The Omega?"

"Not police. I saw FBI badges."

Alpha was speechless with outrage. The Omega, in the hands of those barbarians!

"Do you know where they've taken him?"

"Yes, Lord Alpha. He's been taken to the hospital."

"Then he must be extracted from the hospital!"

"My Lord! How...?"

Alpha forced his fury under control, and favored his sigma primary with a stern glare.

"Sigma, you must not fail in your responsibility. Our cause will suffer greatly, possibly fatally, if we allow this opportunity to slip away!"

"I... Yes, Lord Alpha. I will prevail."

Alpha nodded sharply. "Return with him as quickly as you can. And do no further harm! Oh, and Sigma..."

The sigma met his gaze stolidly.

"You are compromised, Sigma. Those upsilon minions have seen your face and spent time, no matter how brief, in your company. You are compromised."

The sigma primary's head dropped briefly, then lifted to show an expression of resignation. "I am, Lord Alpha. I know my responsibility."

"You have served me and the Cause well, Sigma. You will be remembered."

With a slow bow, the sigma primary turned and left the chamber.

Alpha slowly sank into his padded chair, hands gripped with painful strength on the edge of the circular council table. This was a disaster.

* * *

Jack was about five seconds away from heading for the elevator to the surface, on his way to appropriate an Air Force jet to Atlanta when his phone dragged him back to his desk.

//"Sir? Our trap just caught a fly."//

Yes!

"Finally! Get me a location, Major!"

He grabbed his jacket headed, not for the elevator, but for the control room and his 2IC.

//Gotcha, you damned bastards! You're never gonna forget the lesson I'm about to teach you!//

* * *

//What? What was...? OW!//

He couldn't make any sense of things. Blurred shapes swirled and drifted past him. Every move brought pain. Questions came from nowhere, and most of them made no sense.

//Jack?//

Had he been here? He thought... but maybe not.

Daniel jerked away from the white-coated blob that abruptly loomed out of the confusion. Doctor. Or scientist?

No. Doctor. He could smell this place. No mistaking that odor.

But it was wrong, wrong, wrong. Not the infirmary. Not Janet.

And that was not a good thing.

The white coat's voice wavered in and out. He forced himself to try to understand.

Medication?

//No! Can't let them drug me!//

"No drugs!"

That *was* his voice, right? He really said that?

"Hey, kid... Easy... Good guys."

He squinted, desperate to bring the blur into focus. He knew the voice.

"I... Wh... who are you? I think... I remember you. But..." His eyes squeezed shut as a shudder of pain shook his body. "What is this p... place? I th... Wasn't J... Jack...?"

He fought to control his racing heart. Not Jack. Not Jack. He turned away from the fuzzy, unfamiliar face. "I won't let you give me drugs. No drugs. And I want Jack!"

Talk talk talk. Made no sense.

"Wh... where's Jack?"

Another stranger's voice; another unresolved face.

//FBI?//

"No!" He didn't know these people. Didn't dare trust. And he was so damned confused. So tired. "No drugs."

//Go away! Leave me the hell alone!//

The voices faded as the blackness welled.

//Jack...//

* * *

Jack could feel his teeth grinding. The muscles in his jaw were beginning to ache. Angrily, he punched the numbered button for the fourth time. Couldn't this damned elevator move any faster?

This whole stupid mess made no sense. What the fuck did the blasted FBI want with Daniel? And what the hell had they done to him to necessitate a trip to the hospital, for Christ's sake?

He'd left Carter and Frasier strong-arming the staff after any available records. The combination of Frasier's credentials and Carter's big-sister/Air-Force-Major strength of character would flatten any objections.

He wanted nothing to do with administrative stupidity. It hadn't taken him more than fifteen seconds to discover where the big FBI disturbance was centered, and all he was interested in doing was separating his archaeologist from whatever officious federal flunkies had been messing with him.

"Finally!" The doors swept open on the sixth floor, and he stalked out rapidly, eyes pinpointing the nearby nurses' station immediately.

"FBI?"

The young woman behind the counter paled and recoiled slightly.

"Th... the lounge, sir." She pointed as she spoke.

He nodded sharply, then strode toward the indicated door. The door stuck slightly as he pushed against it, and it gave him a small, satisfying pleasure to shove it hard.

He strode into the room and glared at its only occupant, a tall, craggy-faced man who glanced toward Jack as he dropped a cell phone from his ear.

"What the *hell* have you been doing to my archaeologist?"

* * *

His nails stung sharply as they dug into the flesh on the palms of his hands. This was pointless.

"Silence!"

Alpha smiled in grim satisfaction as the shrill babble died at his command.

"Sit, gentlemen. We accomplish nothing by premature panic. Calm yourselves, and let us discuss this rationally."

"Rationally! Not only have the upsilons injured The Omega, they've fallen into the hands of the FBI! He is as far out of our reach as ever!" Beta's voice was high and grating, his distress adding an unpleasant warble.

"No, he is not. He is currently in a local hospital, far more accessible than he was in Colorado. My sigma may very well have already liberated him." Alpha met the other man's gaze with his most commanding attitude.

"In the hospital, guarded by the damned FBI! You have too much faith in your sigma!"

"He is completely faithful."

"Those crawling upsilons have seen his face! Those agents will have all they know within moments of beginning interrogation!"

"My sigma primary is well aware of his responsibility. He will do what is necessary. I begin to wonder about *your* commitment, Beta."

Beta sputtered. "That is an outrageous insinuation, Alpha! If it weren't for me, you'd never have discovered the existence of the Texts! I've risked more..."

Alpha waved his hand dismissively. "So you suggest that your value to the Committee is in your skills at computer deception?"

"No, I..."

"Please, brothers!" Delta pounded his fist on the table. "This is not productive. All have contributed; we should not begin to encourage doubt among us. We have far more important issues to consider."

Alpha drew a deep breath and held it, closing his eyes and willing his heart to slow its agitated flutter.

"You are correct, Delta. We are all feeling stress; we must remain calm and discuss our options."

"We have to..."

Alpha's eyes snapped open and fixed on Beta. "Silence, Beta. Delta's words are most timely. We must consider our next moves carefully."

Beta's face was still clouded with anger, but he leaned back in his chair and dropped his gaze to the inlaid surface of the table. Alpha nodded in satisfaction.

"Now, I believe..."

A chime interrupted him. He glanced at the small screen set into the surface of the table and frowned. His sigma... alone. His frown sharpened into a scowl.

"Come!" he snapped, pressing the release.

The sigma walked slowly through the opening doors, head lowered.

"My Lord Alpha, I have failed. The Omega is securely guarded by the FBI agents, and several representatives of the Air Force have now joined them. I was unable to even gain access to the floor of the hospital on which he is being confined."

"Air Force!" Beta's voice once again carried that frightened waver. "Who?"

"O'Neill, my Lord Beta. Also Carter and the physician."

"O'Neill!" Beta shot to his feet and leaned forward, arms braced against the surface of the table. "And Carter! Be sure, they will have that creature Teal'c somewhere about as well! This is disaster, Alpha!"

"Calm yourself, Beta!"

"Calm! Damnit, Alpha, I *know* O'Neill. And Carter is brilliant; she will find us. I guarantee it!"

"Enough!" Once again, Alpha's harsh voice silenced the room. "Beta, you try my patience! We are the Enlightened; those elected to join the Ascended. We *will* solve this. Panic and screaming contribute nothing. Now *sit*!"

Reluctantly, Beta lowered himself to sit on the edge of his chair. His body still quivered with tension, but at least his mouth stayed closed.

Alpha took another moment to breathe deeply, seeking his calm center. Then he brought his gaze to bear on his sigma primary.

"I am very sure you did your best, Sigma. Your service has always been exemplary. It is most unfortunate that you are now irreparably compromised."

The sigma, drew a deep breath, then nodded soberly.

"I know, Lord. I know my duty."

"Then I leave you to deal with the problem. You have served me well, Sigma. I will carry your essence with me when the moment arrives."

The sigma bowed deeply, then turned and slowly walked back through the doors.

Alpha stared after him for a long moment, then folded his hands.

"Now, let us discuss our alternatives, brothers."

* * *

The first thing he noticed was the smell. Damn, he knew that smell. And those distant voices, and the clattering noises.

Infirmary.

"Hey, Danny boy. Let's see those bloodshot eyes."

Jack.

But it hadn't really been Jack, had it?

Daniel cracked his eyelids slightly, wincing at the strike of too-bright light in his eyes.

Bright light? As in bright *sun* light. So not the infirmary. Hospital.

But that dark blur was familiar.

"Jack?"

"That's right. C'mon, lazy. You've been sleeping forever. Open up."

He blinked and squinted.

"Here, these'll help."

He felt the familiar chill of his glasses as Jack slid them onto his face, then relaxed as his suddenly focused vision confirmed that it was, indeed, his partner sitting beside his bed.

"'S really you." He sighed.

Jack leaned forward and offered a cup and straw.

"Yup. Nobody else'd spend ten hours sitting here staring at that black and blue face."

Daniel allowed the soothing water to slide down his parched throat, then smiled at the familiar teasing.

"It's you, all right. Bastard."

Jack laughed, and reached out to stroke gently down the side of Daniel's face.

Daniel winced. "Ow!"

"Sorry, buddy. You're looking a bit like a lop-sided raccoon about now."

The light dimmed as a body moved between the window and the bed.

"Suffering blows to the head and face can do that to a man, Colonel."

"Hey, Janet." Daniel smiled up into the doctor's pretty face.

"Hey, Doctor Jackson."

"But..." He glanced toward the window, and around at the white walls of the room. "Where...?"

"Atlanta," she offered.

"Oh." He puzzled for a moment, then images began flashing across his memory. "Oh! The conference. The... Jack!" He struggled to sit up. "I... They... Somebody kidnapped me, Jack! And there was someone else."

He frowned as Jack's hands gently pushed him back against the pillows.

"How'd you get here? There was one... and then... They said they were FBI!"

"Yup." Jack gripped his shoulder gently. "Can't let you out of our sight for a second, can we?"

"Jaa-aack."

Jack chuckled as a knock sounded on the closed door.

"That'll be your FBI guys, Daniel. You ready to talk to them?"

"Colonel..."

"Look, Doc. We gotta figure this thing out."

"They can wait, Colonel. I want to take a look at Doctor Jackson before you begin debriefing him."

"I haven't got much to tell you, anyway, Jack. They popped up, they smacked me around, and that's pretty much all I remember. I think."

"We'll see. I'll leave you with Attila, here, for a while, then be back with the FBI guys."

"Go, Colonel. Before I get upset with you." Casually, gaze fixed on Jack, she lifted a syringe from the drawer.

Daniel choked out a laugh, then cringed. "Ow! Go on, Jack. I'm not going anywhere."

"You certainly aren't. Now hush and let me take a look..."

Daniel waved vaguely in the direction of Jack's departing back as Janet's wicked penlight sent shards of pain through his skull.

* * *

Jack glanced at the two agents as he pulled the door gently closed behind him.

"Sorry, we'll have to wait until Frasier's finished with him."

Malone scowled slightly. "Has he said anything?"

"Just barely woke up. He hasn't had time to say anything other than that he doesn't think he knows anything to help us."

Grant leaned against the wall, brow furrowed with concern. "He was pretty out of it right from the time they brought him into the cell with me. Only regained any real sense a few times, and all he really said was your name. I think he thought I was you. Or hoped."

Jack arched a brow at the young agent. "Well, other than the hair color, the size, the height, and a few dozen other things, I can see how he could be confused."

Grant grinned. "Well, he *was* pretty confused. I think he was trying pretty hard to convince himself it was you. Would probably have been comforting."

Smirking, Jack dipped his head, thinking of the many, many times Daniel had come to his senses, locked in some nasty place, with Jack sitting beside him. "Or at least comfortingly familiar," he murmured.

Malone and Grant exchanged a glance.

"So tell me, Colonel O'Neill," Malone said. "Just what does an archaeologist do for the Air Force?"

Jack let his lips stretch into a slightly mocking grin. "Top secret, Agent Malone. And believe me, your clearance isn't nearly high enough."

"If you are withholding information vital to our investigation..."

"Forget it, Malone. In every way that matters, my clout will beat your clout bloody. And as my team and I are going to be participating in your investigation, we'll take care of any aspects that relate to Daniel and why they snatched him."

"Participating! This is an FBI investigation, also involving the kidnapping of one of *my* agents, and there's no way I'm going to allow a bunch of Air Force novices to interfere! You've already got Major Carter hanging over my computer man's shoulder. "

Jack was shaking his head and reaching for his cell phone.

"It's not going to be up to you, Malone." His fingers were busy on the tiny buttons.

Interrupting Malone's impending tirade with a lifted finger, Jack turned slightly away from the other men, attention on the device in his hand. Briskly, he carved through the various levels of clearance until he heard a familiar drawl.

"Ah, General. We've got a small problem of... jurisdiction here. The FBI aren't happy about receiving our oh so valuable help. Yes, sir, that's what I thought."

He gave Malone his best shark grin.

"Right, sir. We'll wait for the call. Thanks."

As he deactivated the phone, he turned back to Malone, who was clearly attempting to bring his temper under control.

"Look, Colonel... No Air Force general has the authority to give orders to our task force. You simply have no jurisdiction here!"

Jack shook his head, still smirking.

"It's not about jurisdiction, Malone. It's about clout. When your phone rings a couple minutes from now, I'd suggest being real polite when you answer."

"Damnit, O'Neill!"

"Colonel?"

Malone scowled at Frasier as she stepped out of Daniel's room.

"You gentlemen can talk to him now, but keep it brief. Doctor Jackson needs to rest. I've given him something for the pain, and he'll be getting pretty drowsy. "

"We need to get him out of here, Doc."

Her head was shaking. "No, Colonel. He's staying right where he is at least overnight. The doctor who admitted him and I are in complete agreement on this. He's suffered a lot of trauma, including a concussion. He needs to be here where we can keep him under observation. And we need to run a few tests to be sure we aren't missing anything."

"I can observe him. We need him with us."

"No, Colonel. You can have him tomorrow if he's made it through the night satisfactorily, and *if* nothing unexpected arises in the next few hours. But I'm not risking complications to that head injury by allowing you to remove him too early."

"Look, Janet, we still don't know what this mess is about. For all we know, he's still in a lot of danger. We need to keep him protected."

"I'm aware of that problem, Colonel. The hospital has agreed that you may leave whatever protection you deem appropriate. But he stays here until tomorrow. Not negotiable."

"*Major* Frasier..." He used his height to loom over the diminutive woman.

"That's *Doctor* Frasier, Colonel." So much for looming. "And we both know who outranks whom in medical situations. Tomorrow."

He heard Malone's wry snort just as the FBI man's phone chirped. Jack yielded the battle and watched silently, smug satisfaction warming his heart, as Malone straightened at the voice on the other end of the phone.

"But, sir..."

Even from the other side of Daniel's bed, Jack could hear the sharpness of the voice that interrupted.

"But..."

Again, he was cut off. Finally he sighed, craggy face tight with frustration.

"Yes, sir. I understand."

With angry force, he snapped the cover down on the phone and glared at the Air Force officer who had invaded his territory. Jack grinned in triumph.

"Let me guess... little message from aloft?"

"That was my Director. Apparently he's received a visit from an adjutant to the Joint Chiefs of Staff."

"There ya go. Like I said, clout."

* * *

Jack savored a mug of surprisingly good coffee and spared a small thought for caffeine-deprived Daniel, languishing in his hospital bed. Obviously the FBI had better resources than the SGC commissary.

Frowning slightly, he considered the short interview they'd conducted with Daniel. As he'd expected, the archaeologist hadn't been able to add to their meager information. He'd been a bit surprised at Malone's technique. He hadn't expected the FBI man to be so gentle. He'd been prepared to choke the man off if he upset Daniel, but his concern hadn't been necessary. The interview had been low key and careful. And lacking any useful information.

Jack sighed, missing the warm presence of Daniel standing behind his shoulder. Tomorrow, he'd take possession, and there was no way he was letting the man out of his sight again until this damned thing was resolved.

He hummed appreciatively as he slurped another mouthful of the excellent coffee, and turned his attention back to the activity playing out in front of him.

He leaned casually against the wall, watching his 2IC in amusement. Sam Carter was having a terrific time. She and Malone's computer expert were happily dismantling the Internet, hacking into who-knew-what looking for any scraps of trails that might lead them to the people responsible for Daniel's kidnapping. They'd already pulled the guts out of the little snatch-for-hire operation, but finding the source of the "order" was proving to be irresistibly complex. The two geeks were reveling in their techy fun.

And then there was John Grant. Jack sipped again to cover his laughter as the handsome FBI man drifted past-again-and solicitously asked if Carter needed her coffee warmed up. The unspoken communication flicking back and forth between the two was obvious enough to prompt Frayley, the FBI computer nerd, to roll his eyes and suggest Grant go find something constructive to do.

Grinning, Grant rested his hip on the table beside Carter. "What makes you think I'm not accomplishing anything, George?"

Frayley snorted. "Oh, yeah. I know exactly what you're accomplishing. You could at least wait until we take a break."

"You haven't taken a break since you started, George. I've gotta take whatever opportunities I can."

Carter was shaking her head, laughing lightly. "He's right, Agent Grant..."

"John," he interrupted.

"...John. We *are* working here. And we've still got a long way to go. So if you could..."

"People, conference room. Now!" Malone's voice changed the mood sharply.

Jack met Carter's eyes, then jerked his head toward Malone's disappearing back.

As they settled around the polished table, they were joined by the FBI team's profiler. Jack had been introduced, but had no chance to talk to the woman. She didn't look much like what he'd expect to see in an FBI agent, but then, Carter didn't exactly look like anybody's typical idea of an Air Force officer, either.

Malone's grim frown didn't prompt Jack to hope they'd found the bastards.

"Doctor Waters has been discussing a few things with our 'guests.' We have some information to add to your search efforts, George."

The profiler slid copies of a drawing across the table. "The prisoners gave us a name... Mister Sigma. According to them, that's all they ever knew, and I think they're telling the truth. Our artist combined the descriptions from all three of them to produce this sketch."

"Sigma, huh," Jack snorted. "Why do I think that's a pseudonym?"

He picked up a copy of the drawing and considered the thin, aesthetic face. Didn't look much like a Master Criminal.

"Not surprisingly, we've been unable to locate anyone named Sigma who matches the image. I think pseudonym is a good guess." Waters's breathy voice expressed gentle regret. "And I'm certain he wasn't negotiating for himself. He was representing someone else."

Jack scowled at the drawing then, frustration rising to tighten his throat, shifted his glare to Malone. "So what have you done to figure him out, Mister FBI?"

"Sir!" Carter's voice barely registered.

Malone's hard gaze didn't yield. "My people are the best, Colonel O'Neill. They're working on it. There isn't much to go on, but we'll find him."

Jack's angry retort was interrupted by the shrill of his cell phone. Without shifting his eyes from Malone's, he jerked it out and activated it.

"O'Neill!" he barked.

//"Sir."//

"What's the word, Doc?"

//"The test results don't show any surprises, Colonel. He's going to be fine, given a little time."//

A bit of the throttling pressure on Jack's throat eased.

"That's good news, Doc. So...?"

//"So you can get him out of here tomorrow morning. *Early* tomorrow morning, if you please."//

He actually smiled slightly.

"A bit of a handful, Doctor Frasier?"

//"Understatement, Colonel. He's driving the hospital staff crazy. And the guards are refusing to stay in the room with him. They've taken up their posts outside the door."//

The chuckle sounded a bit rusty, even to him. "Sounds like our boy. Okay, Doc. I'll head over there to spend the night with the ogre in his cave. Just gotta wrap a couple of things up over here first. Tell him I'm on my way."

As he disengaged the phone, he became aware of the speculative looks on the faces of the FBI agents around the table.

"What?" he snapped. "He's my archaeologist. I'm entitled to be a bit concerned."

"Yes, you are, Colonel," Doctor Waters soothed.

"So he's okay, sir?"

He nodded. "Gonna be fine, Carter. I'll be staying in the room with him tonight. Whoever hired those morons is still out there, and presumably still interested in Daniel. And no offence, Malone, but I'm not leaving him to your people."

Malone nodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly. Jack's scowl returned as he realized the FBI man would probably be happy to see his own back end. But getting one-up on Malone took a back seat to making sure Daniel was safe and feeling as safe and cared for as possible. He'd be back the next day, and with an uncomfortable, and therefore snarky, archaeologist in tow. Daniel'd make mincemeat out of the arrogant bastard.

He let his anticipation of Malone's comeuppance reflect in his face, allowing the frown to fade into a smug little smile. And felt a quiver of childish triumph at the flicker of uneasy confusion in the other man's face.

"Bailey." A hint of reprimand colored Doctor Waters's voice.

Malone jerked his gaze away from Jack's face, turning back to the table.

"Right." He nodded briskly. "George?"

"Well, I think we're making some progress. Maybe."

"Maybe?" Jack snapped.

"Maybe, sir," Carter responded firmly. "We're not sure what we've found is really pertinent."

"We tried every hook we could to get at Campbell's web site, but there's really nothing there other than a pretty simple-minded, clumsy advertisement. We were getting nowhere." Frayley's opinion of the kidnappers' web site was clear in his expression.

"Then we decided to look at things from the other end."

"Other end, Carter? What other end?"

"Daniel, sir."

"Right! We Googled 'Daniel Jackson.' And BAM!"

Jack leaned over the table to loom over the FBI hacker.

"Bam?" He drew the single syllable out, emphasizing the final consonant.

"Yes, sir!" Carter leaned forward eagerly. "You wouldn't believe how many sites there out there referencing Daniel's work! Or at least, some pretty wild popularized versions of his work before he joined... us."

"Web sites?"

"Hundreds! And most of them are pretty outrageous."

He leaned back, thinking about Daniel's attitude toward his work. All that serious, loving passion. "Damn. Wonder if he knows."

The eager delight in Carter's face faded slightly. "I hope not, sir. He wouldn't be happy about most of these."

"Well, duh, Major."

"Anyway, we've just started to look through some of these sites to see if there's anything that looks..." She waved her hand vaguely.

"...Hinky," Frayley offered.

"Right. Hinky."

"That a technical term, Frayley?"

"Anything that looks like it reflects on Daniel's kidnapping, sir," Carter asserted firmly.

He flicked a tiny smile in her direction, silently agreeing to leave her new playmate alone.

Malone cleared his throat. "Right. You two keep working on that angle. Sam, anything else to add?"

She settled back into her seat, brow furrowed. "I'll go through everything again, see if I can get some kind of idea about who Mister Sigma was. But... there isn't much to go on. The impression I get from the three men I've interviewed is that he's a serious, intense man. A fanatic about... something. But their exposure to him was fairly limited."

"Good. If there's anything there, you'll find it. John, I want you to..."

He broke off as the conference room phone rang. Annoyance adding creases to his forehead, he jerked the handset off the cradle.

"Malone!" he snapped.

His face cleared, then pinched into an expression of irritation.

"Where? ... Any additional information? ... Right. I'll send someone. Don't let your people take anything away from the site before they get there."

He slammed the phone down, then stood a moment, staring at the glass of the wall.

"That was the Atlanta police. Looks like they've found our Mister Sigma."

"Yes!" Jack exclaimed.

Malone turned back to meet his eyes. "I wouldn't be so pleased, Colonel. They found him dead under a bridge."

"Shit."

"While I might choose a different way of expressing it, I agree. John, Sam, get over there." He scribbled a few words on a pad, then ripped the page off and handed it to the profiler. "I want every scrap of information you can get from that damned site."

* * *

Alpha stared intently at his folded hands, forcing himself to breathe deeply, evenly. Savoring the silence. He'd banished the rest of the council members to their homes, instructing them to calm themselves. To rest and return prepared to address their situation rationally and intelligently.

The situation was not irretrievable. He would not be defeated. This could be handled.

He lifted his head, allowing his gaze to fix on the mural which swept along the curved wall opposite his position at the round table. As he lingered on the painted figures, the brilliant, exalted forms of the painting, calm satisfaction flowed from his core throughout his body.

Such a future. His fate; he was totally certain. He was meant to walk with those glorious ones.

He smiled.

They *would* succeed. Nothing could be allowed to interfere.

Fate could not be denied.

* * *

A hospital was never truly silent. Jack sat in the darkened room, listening to the announcements, the telephones, the clinks and thuds of activity. Just how could this be a better place for Daniel? Even Frasier said the thing he needed most was rest.

He sighed, leaning forward, elbows on knees. Daniel was a bit restless, but basically quiet. The low, diffuse light seeping through the room's window brushed gently over his battered features, highlighting the periodic twitches of eyebrows, furrowing of forehead, the tongue peeking through full lips. Jack reached out and ran the backs of his fingers along Daniel's bruised cheek, keeping his touch as light as possible.

His throat tightened with now-familiar frustration. How the hell could he have let this happen? Right here on their own goddamned planet.

"Last time you're going anywhere without me, Dannyboy," he murmured. "There are just too damned many people out there who want you, and you're all mine. No more solo trips with other teams. No more conferences or professional meetings. Not unless I come along."

"J'ck?" The name was barely audible.

"Hey, there. Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?"

Blue eyes under heavy lids fixed themselves on his face. "Urgh."

Jack picked up the cup of water from the bedside, leaning over to grin down into Daniel's puzzled face. "Erudite, as usual, Doctor Jackson."

Gently, he nudged the bent straw against soft lips, nodding with approval as Daniel sipped a couple of times.

"Attaboy. Back to sleep, now."

A frown creased between Daniel's brows.

"K'ss?" he whispered.

Jack raised his finger and tilted his head, listening carefully for sounds from outside the door. Hearing nothing, he smiled softly and leaned closer.

"Oh, I think we could manage one little one," he murmured.

With tender care, he pressed his lips against Daniel's. He pulled away with a gentle swipe of his tongue over dry lips.

"Now snooze, Dannyboy," he breathed.

Smiling, Daniel breathed a long sigh, eyelids drooping closed as he slid back into slumber.

"That's my good archaeologist." Jack kept his voice barely above silence. A wash of warmth flooded through him as he watched Daniel's chest rise and fall rhythmically, listened to the faint, slightly congested whisper of the air moving into and out of his lungs. For just a moment, he allowed himself to recognize the sheer panic of loss he'd felt when he'd thought he'd lost all of this. Lost Daniel.

"Gotta do something about this sort of thing, Danny. My heart's not gettin' any younger; can't take many more of these little excursions."

He jerked around as the door cracked open.

"Everything all right in here, Colonel?"

Jack nodded in response to the whispered query.

"Fine. Just having a little conversation with Doctor Jackson."

The airman's brows rose as his gaze swept over the obviously sleeping Daniel.

"Ah... Right, sir." He saluted and eased the door closed.

* * *

Daniel lowered his aching body into the softness of the limousine's luxurious upholstery, ears still ringing from Janet's strict instructions. He was glad she was going back to the mountain.

He felt a little rush of guilt at that thought. She took good care of him. But her bullying and her rules always quickly exhausted his patience. He was a grown man. He hadn't needed a mother since... Well, not for a long time.

He smiled at the scowl on Jack's face as he slid onto the bench seat beside Daniel.

"Wrath of God, right?

Jack glanced across at him, frown softening into a fond smile.

"Oh, yeah. You'd better not collect so much as an additional hangnail before we take you home."

For a long moment, Daniel stared at his partner. Jack's eyes dropped, and he turned away to stare out the window.

"It wouldn't have made any difference, you know."

Jack's jaw hardened. He made no effort to pretend he didn't understand. "It could have."

"No, Jack. You just can't be with me every second of my life."

"I can damn well try."

"Ja-ack."

"Daniel.

"I can take care of myself, Jack. And..."

"Oh, yeah? How ya feelin' there, Doctor Jackson?"

Daniel felt his cheeks warm. "Don't try to confuse the issue, Jack. People get hurt all the time. And I hate to point it out, but you weren't the one who got me out of this particular mess."

Jack leaned forward. "Maybe not, but you still needed rescuing, didn't you?"

Daniel ducked his head. "Well, yes. But I still say it wouldn't have made any difference if you'd been in Atlanta with me. They'd still have kidnapped me, and you still wouldn't have been able to get me out of that place. You just can't protect me from everything, Jack."

"And I *still* say... I can damn well *try*."

Daniel shook his head, irritation warring with the warmth of appreciation.

"Oh, Jack. What am I going to do with you?"

"Just let me do my job."

"Your job?"

"Oh, yeah. In every way there is. My job."

Daniel leaned back against the cushions, contemplating the intensity in Jack's eyes and the many layers of meaning in that declaration. Slowly, he nodded.

"I... see. All right."

Jack's eyes widened. "All right?"

"Yes. As long as you remember that I've got a stake in this deal as well."

"Well, yeah."

"Pay attention, Jack. You care about whether I get hurt. Fine. But remember that I care about you as well. And I *wouldn't* consider it a good trade if you got hurt or killed trying to keep me from getting one of those hangnails."

Jack twisted his mouth to the side, contemplating Daniel's serious face.

"I get that. But..."

"No, Jack. No buts. It works both ways."

He held Jack's dark eyes until the other man finally dipped his head.

"Ooookay. Gotcha."

Daniel slid his fingers into Jack's hand, squeezing gently. When Jack looked up, he smiled and mouthed, 'Love you, Jack.'

Jack's pouting lips stretched into an answering smile. His fingers tightened on Daniel's, and he nodded.

Satisfied, Daniel leaned back and closed his eyes.

* * *

"There's a couch in Malone's office. No arguing, Daniel. You're going to go lie down. We've got things under control."

Daniel didn't even look at him. "Okay, in a while." His eyes were fixed on Carter and Frayley, whose excitement was obvious in their vivid eyes and rapid hand movements.

"Daniel."

Blue eyes briefly turned his way. "I will Jack. Later."

"Now, Daniel!"

Daniel's attention was already back on the pair of computer geeks. "I want to see what Sam's found."

"I'll come tell you. Get your butt into that office and lie down!"

Daniel turned to face him. "Jack, I've been flat on my back for a lot longer than I even want to contemplate. I'll lie down *later*."

"But Frasier..."

"Isn't here. I won't tell."

Jack sighed, staring at Daniel's retreating back. So much for those birds on his shoulders.

Carter looked up as Daniel lowered himself carefully into the chair at her side. The excitement drained from her face.

"Daniel! Are you... Should you be here?" As she spoke, she quickly minimized whatever she'd been so eagerly exploring on her screen.

"No," Jack said pointedly.

"I'm fine."

Jack and Carter both rolled their eyes. Daniel's chin hardened into mulish resistance.

"I'm *fine*. I want to know what's going on."

Carter turned to Jack, eyes wide and questioning. He could see the apprehension in her face. He shrugged, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"Unless you can out-stubborn him, Carter, he's staying."

"And you can stop trying to hide whatever you've found, Sam."

Daniel reached out with his good arm and closed his fingers over hers, moving the mouse and clicking to bring the browser back onto the screen.

For a long moment he stared, frozen, at the elaborate graphics of the rather garish web site. His mouth tightened as he read through the text.

Carter wriggled nervously, casting a quick, apologetic glance Jack's way.

"Daniel, I... Well..."

"Yeah," he drawled slowly, still staring at the lurid screen. "I see."

"Sam?" Frayley had been glancing back and forth between Carter and Daniel.

"Oh, sorry George." Carter gripped Daniel's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Daniel?"

He pulled his gaze away from the monitor, then reached across to offer his hand.

"Daniel Jackson... um... Wacko." He shrugged a shoulder toward the screen in explanation.

Frayley grinned. "George Frayley. And though I've figured out that we're into Top Secret territory here, I'd really like to know just what you did to get *that* started."

Daniel's eyes were already fixed back on the display. "Believe me, it wasn't my intention."

"Carter? You wanna clue me in, here?"

"Ah... Yes, sir. We... Well, we're actually getting somewhere, though it's a bit hard to figure out exactly *where*, or what any of this means with regard to Daniel's abduction."

Jack straightened. "Getting somewhere?"

He rounded the table and bent to look over her shoulder.

"What the *hell* are you doing, Carter?"

"Well, sir, When we..."

"Keep it on this planet, Carter."

"Yes, sir. We started out by trying to trace connections to Campbell's web site..."

Jack felt himself tense at the name of the bastard who'd been responsible for grabbing his archaeologist.

"... And we were getting nowhere."

"This I remember."

"Then... well..." She paused, swallowing. "As we told you in the briefing, we decided to try things from the other end."

"Ever look yourself up on the Internet, Jack?" Daniel's voice was soft and expressionless.

"Uh... no." Jack spoke emphatically.

"I... wouldn't recommend it."

"I'd probably just find a bunch of junk about that *other* Jack O'Neil."

That earned him a small smile. "The one with only one 'l'?"

"Yeah."

"I take it you've seen some of this, Daniel?"

"Oh, yes, Sam. Put my name into a search engine and got a lot more than I ever wanted to see."

"We found hundreds of these bizarre, pseudo-archaeology and alien encounter, alien abduction, alien *everything* pages. People using your old publications to fuel all sorts of strange personal fantasies."

Frayley tapped the screen. "Since yesterday I've read the papers most of these pages cite. I guess I can see where they get their ideas from, but they're really stretching things. And they base their notion that your work supports their fantasies more on commentary by critics than on the actual text of your papers." He shook his head ruefully. "I guess people who want to believe something can make almost anything seem to support them, if they just 'interpret' it correctly."

Daniel was nodding. "People find justifications for their beliefs in all kinds of places. There are those who find what they call evidence supporting the reality of alien abduction in places like the Bible and the Quran. People find evidence of demonic possession in commercial emblems and nursery rhymes. People read things into Shakespeare's work which he never intended to be there. We're all experts at finding evidence to support what we truly want to believe."

"Right!" Carter leaned forward. "Anyway, we spent some time going through some of these sites without seeing anything that rang any bells. Then we decided to refine our selection a bit. We combined Daniel's name with 'Sigma,' and *this* site popped out. And I think this is the real goods."

She clicked the "Back" button a couple of times.

"Holy shit!" Jack stared at the portrait that adorned the web page. "Blast from the past, Daniel."

Daniel produced a sound that could only be described as a snort. "Jack, I never looked like that."

"Sure you did."

He found himself impaled on beams of vitriolic blue.

"No. I didn't."

"Well, you can see where it came from, Daniel." Carter's enthusiasm was rapidly recovering from the damper of Daniel's presence. "I pulled this up from your early records with the S... with the Air Force."

Another click and she brought an image up from the background.

"Oh, yeah. That I definitely remember."

The face on the screen brought back memories of those first bizarre days at the SGC, when what Jack's desperately rigid mind had insisted should be a strictly military institution had been invaded by a skinny, clumsy, bashful misfit with no social graces and way, way too much hair. He couldn't help the fondly reminiscent grin that stretched his lips.

It was definitely Daniel. In fact, it was the ID photo from his first SGC security pass. Impossibly younger, chin ducked down despite the fact his gaze was fixed on the camera lens. Magnificent eyes shrouded by ugly, heavy glasses and that shaggy mop of hair. Shy, withdrawn-yet somehow even then, that gaze had been vaguely challenging. Looking back from several years of experience with his complex partner, he could see the germs of his snake-baiting archaeologist in the apparently self-effacing man in the photograph.

"Oh, God," Daniel murmured. "Was I ever that young?"

"You still are, Dannyboy. You're just... bigger." Surreptitiously, he slid his fingers around Daniel's upper arm, stroking the significant bulge of a bicep with private possessiveness.

Daniel shifted away from the invading hand, shrugging petulantly. "Jack, I'm thirty-six years old."

"Yep. Just a baby."

He was treated to another snort and an irritated over-the-shoulder glare. Daniel was definitely not in a great mood.

"The *point* is, sir, that this is the source of the... artwork on the web page."

Carter shifted back to the strange web site. The comparison was obvious, despite the... enhancement of the image on the web page. There was Daniel's younger face, rendered by some hack artist with a mind for the bizarre. The glasses were gone, the naturally big eyes slightly exaggerated and highlighted with an iridescent shine. The badly cut, sun-bleached hair had become smooth, glossy and glowingly golden, reflecting the metallic incandescence of the pyramid the artist had placed behind the portrait's shoulders. The ugly, wrinkled plaid shirt had been replaced by what could have been Daniel's Abydonian robes. If he'd shopped for them among the high-end couturiers of Paris.

But behind the glitz, it was the same face. The *same* face.

"Damn!" Jack exclaimed, leaning forward to stare more closely at the picture. "Shift back, Carter."

With a smug little smile, she obliged, bringing forward the ID photo again. After a few moments, she clicked on the web page once more.

"You see, sir?"

"Oh, yeah. It's not just Daniel's face. They used this photo as their source. And no way should they have *this* photo..."

"...Unless they'd accessed classified Air Force records." Carter finished. "*Highly* classified records. Sir, I've been looking back over the incidents of incursion which we originally flagged back at the S... back at our base. Though the incursion I eventually trapped came from George, here, he *wasn't* responsible for the original plundering."

"We've only been investigating this since we released Doctor Jackson, Colonel." Frayley rotated his chair toward Jack. "Sam caught us essentially the second we encountered your security screen." The admiration in his voice was unmistakable. "I'd just begun trying to identify him, and the search for matches to his fingerprints led us to you."

"Colonel, I think our security has been breached repeatedly over the last few years. But not really from the outside."

"Don't say it, Major. I really don't want to hear this."

Daniel leaned back in his chair, staring at his enhanced computer-screen self. "She doesn't have to."

Frayley's eyes flicked from one face to another.

"Ah... yes, she does. What...?"

Carter leaned back, eyes closing wearily. "Sorry, George. We just hit that 'Top Security' thing again. Sir?" She sat up and turned toward Jack. "I really think we're going to have to tell them some of this."

He scowled at Daniel's too-perfect image on the monitor. "Damn. I guess I need to have a little chat with the general. You may be right."

"There's more here, sir." She waved at the computer. "Before you talk to General Hammond, maybe you'd better see some of it."

He nodded, grabbing a stool and sinking down beside Frayley. "You're right. So hit me, Carter. I'm pretty sure I'm not going to like this, so make it fast."

"Wait, Sam. Can you check something else first?"

Daniel tugged a much-folded sheaf of papers out of his pocket. Jack craned his neck to read the crumpled top page. It was the Events program from the conference Daniel had come to Atlanta to attend.

Daniel shoved the computer's keyboard out of the way and spread the booklet out on the desk.

"I pass on a dozen conferences a year. But I decided to attend this one because of one advertised presentation... this paper." His finger stabbed at one line on the program. "This title could have been designed to catch my eye. And look at the author."

Jack shook his head in disgust. "Oh, those Greeks get around, don't they?"

"I've never heard of a Quincy Zeta, and despite everything, I still keep up pretty well. In fact, I *have* to stay on top of things, just in case..." His voice trailed off as he met Jack's eyes. "Well, just in case. I hate to overestimate my significance, but I think this paper was offered specifically to catch my attention. As far as I know, this Doctor Zeta never showed at the conference, though I suppose it's possible he arrived after I... departed."

Sam was nodding. "I think you're right, Daniel. And look here..." She flicked through a few pages of the web site, settling on another grandiosely decorated page headed 'Supreme Council.' She ran the pointer down the short list of members, settling on one near the bottom. Zeta.

Jack leaned closer. "Interesting little portraits. How accurate do you suppose they are?"

She shrugged. "Well, considering how they treated Daniel, I'd guess fairly accurate, if a bit enhanced."

"Right!" He straightened, nodding sharply. "Carter, Frayley, I want you to wring all the information you can out of this crap." He gestured toward the screen. "See if you can track some real identities for these bozos. And get someone on that conference thing."

"I'll do that."

"No you won't Dannyboy. You're gonna go into that office and put your head down for a while."

"Jack, nobody here knows more than I do about getting behind the scenes of an archaeological conference. Just find me a desk and a telephone."

"Daniel..."

"Jack."

He glared into stubborn blue eyes, noting the lines of exhaustion and pain creasing Daniel's face.

"You're beat, Doctor Jackson. You're going to rest. Now."

"I can rest later. This is something I can do better than anyone else here. I'll rest later."

Jack huffed an exasperated breath. "You are without exception the dumbest, stubbornest idiot genius I've ever had to ramrod! What, you just want us to wait until we have to pick you up off the floor?"

Daniel's little smile told him the archaeologist knew he'd won.

"It won't come to that. Just get me that phone. And see if you can find me a more comfortable chair, would you?"

* * *

Daniel was feeling more than a little regret over refusing that couch. He stared down at his folded hands, feeling every insult his body had borne over the last couple of days.

But he could easily convince himself that none of the physical damage effectively competed with the psychological battering. Yes, he'd seen some of those web pages before. He'd never quite realized how many there were, but he'd seen them.

But seeing them-knowing they were there-wasn't at all the same as staring at their garish absurdities, shoulder to shoulder with Sam, Jack hanging over their heads and taking in every animated gif, every overblown Java indulgence. He'd wanted to shrink down and fade into the uncomfortable cushion of his chair.

And the final insult-that repulsive Omega site. He felt a vague sense of nausea just recalling its grandiose images and text. And Sam and George thought that one was the key to the bizarre events of the last forty-eight hours.

He straightened slightly as Malone and Jack entered the conference room. They'd been standing outside, clearly visible through the glass wall, discussing something serious. Daniel knew Jack had been talking to the FBI man privately, disclosing bits and pieces of the great secrets of the SGC. Malone looked rather less angry than he had ever since Daniel first remembered seeing his face, so apparently Jack had told him enough to make the seriousness of their problem evident.

Malone took the seat at the head of the table, Jack sinking into the chair between Malone's and Daniel's. Daniel relaxed slightly as he felt a warm hand grip his thigh. He glanced at Jack and managed a small smile.

"How ya doin', Daniel?" Jack kept his voice low.

"I'm fine."

"Right. After this meeting, it's that couch for you, Doctor Jackson."

For a moment, Daniel contemplated being stubborn. But his body really was aching, and his head felt like it weighed several hundred pounds. After a moment, he nodded slightly.

"Okay. Think I'd appreciate it."

Jack smiled, fingers tightening on Daniel's leg. "Attaboy."

Both of them turned their attention to Malone as he cleared his throat.

"Okay, people, we've got progress on a couple of fronts. First, Sam-" he paused and glanced apologetically toward Sam Carter. "Doctor Waters."

The profiler shook her head slightly, blond hair swaying. "The body presents several interesting anomalies."

John Grant leaned forward, tapping a pencil on the papers spread out on the table in front of him.

"We've confirmed that the body is the man Campbell knew as 'Sigma.' The body carried no identification of any kind. In fact, the man had apparently emptied his pockets completely-no money, no wallet, nothing but lint, and not much of that. There were no identifying marks on him or his clothing." He smiled grimly at Jack's irritated snort. "But we did find a fingerprint match. He was apparently picked up, then quickly released, as a suspect in a robbery about fifteen years ago. He was in custody just long enough to get into the system. His real name is Albert Ringer. Other than that one blip, his record is completely clean. Some of the anomalies Sam mentioned... we can't find any kind of recent employment history on him. We don't know where he lived."

He tossed one report down the table toward Malone.

"And here's another. He was shot at close range. In the stomach. Powder burns on the clothing around the wound area indicate point blank. Essentially, the barrel was in contact with his body when the gun was fired."

Several of the agents and officers seated around the table winced.

"Oh, yeah. Nasty way to go. It would have taken him a while to bleed out. But here's what's strange. We found the weapon under a bush in a park about half a mile away from the place he died. Followed the blood trail. It looks like he was shot, then dragged himself all the way to where his body was found."

"But that doesn't make any sense." Frayley was shaking his head. "If he's able to go all that way, why doesn't he get himself somewhere for help? Why go to all that effort-while he's bleeding to death-to end up in a place where there's every chance he'll end up in the river and *never* be found?"

Daniel glanced at Jack. "Well... what if he didn't want to be found?"

Doctor Waters was nodding. "I think that's exactly the case. This isn't a murder, Bailey. It's a suicide. He went to considerable trouble to make himself as anonymous as possible, to disguise as much as he could about the details of his death. There are no prints on the weapon, but we found a pair of bloody plastic gloves in a nearby trash can. Epithelials on the gloves match Ringer. He shot himself in the stomach, not the head, so he would die slowly and be able to complete the attempts to confuse the scene. He hid the gun at the site, went to the trouble to dispose of the gloves, then took himself directly to that location under the bridge. None of this was accidental."

"So we're led to the conclusion that being unable to 'acquire' Doctor Jackson, here, drove a man to suicide?" Bailey sounded vaguely outraged.

"I don't think so," Doctor Waters said. "There's a lot more going on here than appears. I don't see any signs of despair or desperation. This was very deliberate. Planned. And planned to make it appear to be something other than what it actually was. I get the sense that Ringer was protecting something."

"One other interesting thing," Grant added. "Our people at the hospital reported some suspicious activity near the service entrance during the time Doctor Jackson was there. One man who approached, then backed off, apparently when he spotted the guards. We checked the hospital surveillance vids. It was Ringer."

"Oh, boy," Jack murmured.

Frayley nodded. "'Oh, boy' is right. If he's connected to what we've been looking at, there might really be something for him to hide."

Bailey scowled. "I agree, though what exactly that is... George, Major Carter, go ahead."

Sam and George glanced at each other, then she tilted her head, offering to let him present their findings.

"We've been investigating the web site of a group that call themselves 'The Ascended Ones.'"

Daniel winced. Too close to home.

"These guys took a... well, skewed is the most polite way to put it... a skewed interpretation of some of Doctor Jackson's earlier publications, and they built a colossal, cult-like religion around it."

Jack huffed in disgust. "Oh, yeah. Some delusion."

Sam frowned at him, and picked up from George.

"This isn't really what brought us to focus on this group. Frankly, they aren't so unusual in that sense, though they took things a lot further than most of the fringies who thought Daniel's work meant something... different from what it actually did." She cast an apologetic grimace in Daniel's direction. "This sort of thing has apparently been going on for quite a few years, and there are literally hundreds of wacko sites out there carrying on about ancient aliens, and claiming that Daniel's work supports their fantasies."

"Wacko, Major Carter?"

She smiled at Grant. "Very technical term. I can't think of a better one. Anyway, what sets this particular group apart is two things. First, they've really built their cult around Daniel, himself, as opposed to simply using his work to support a lot of other alien visitation myths. The home page of their web site features a glorified portrait of Daniel, presented as what can only be described as a god-figure."

Daniel was seriously considering putting his head down on that nice, cool tabletop. If he covered his eyes, he could pretend they weren't all staring at his 'god-like' face. A stroke from that hand on his thigh and a quick glance at Jack's sympathetic face, and he found the backbone to lift his chin and meet their bemused gazes.

"They refer to him as 'The Omega,'" Frayley continued, sliding printouts of that outrageous portrait around the table. "Supposedly, he's going to lead their elite-referred to as The Council-to a higher plane, where they'll receive all sorts of wonderful benefits."

"Two hundred beautiful, willing virgins and enlightenment-as in, the key to beating the roulette tables in Vegas?" Jack growled.

Frayley chuckled. "Something like that. Anyway, unlike the other groups and individuals we looked at, for this bunch Doctor Jackson is a very important and personal part of their mythos. Oh, and the members of the council are referred to not by name, but by letters of the Greek alphabet. It was combining the Greek alphabet thing, as in 'Mr. Sigma,' with Doctor Jackson in our searches that pinpointed this group in the first place."

"Then there's this." Sam's voice was grim, matching the angry frown on her face. "These people know things they shouldn't know. They have access to documentation and information that should be protected at the highest levels by the United States Government. Even the source image they used for that portrait of Daniel came from his I.D. card. That photo is government property. Oh, and that specific I.D. card was retired several years ago. The long hair, those glasses... Daniel hasn't looked like that for quite a while. And there are other things..."

She glanced at Jack, took a deep breath and continued. "Sir, there's a big section of this web site which they call 'The Texts.' It's their Bible. Some of it consists of those early papers of Daniel's, before he joined the SGC. But some of it was lifted from the SGC database. Material that's never been published, and which I *know* is top secret. I've checked back with our people... all of these later papers are properly entered and protected in our most secure database."

Jack frowned at Daniel. "What are you doing writing stuff like that, Daniel?"

Daniel felt his cheeks warm. "Jack, that's what people like me do. That's how we organize and make sense of what we study. We write. Even if I can't publish, I write. I've put hundreds of documents into our files. I use them all the time for my own work, and I use them for training incoming personnel. It's what I do. But I understand the secrecy thing just as well as you do, and I always follow procedure. None of those papers has ever been legitimately seen outside the SGC. As far as I knew, none of them has been seen outside the SGC *period*."

"Wait! Hold on a minute! What's 'SGC'?"

Daniel glanced guiltily across the table into Grant's puzzled face.

"Oops. Sorry, Jack."

Jack sighed. "No problem, Danny. Besides, Carter did it first. And I've already had a little chat with Malone."

"Yes, you have." Malone caught and held Grant's gaze. "The SGC is a top secret military operation. Colonel O'Neill has told me a little bit about what they do." He turned his hard stare back in Jack's direction. "Not much. Not enough to really make sense of a lot of this. But enough for me to understand that their security really is vital, and to justify being willing to work partially in the dark. Colonel O'Neill has promised to reveal anything that becomes pertinent to solving this case. For now, we..." His gesture included all of the FBI personnel. "... Know enough to function. I'm satisfied with the situation. Though I have to admit to being curious as hell."

His smile caught Daniel by surprise. Reflexively, he smiled back.

"Anyway," Frayley firmly dragged them back to the issue at hand. "We've been able to dig into this website and its domain enough to identify some of the people involved."

Everyone at the table straightened sharply. Sam and Frayley exchanged smug little smiles, then started handing out another set of documents.

As they all grabbed the printed pages, a tapping on the closed conference room door brought all heads up. Scowling, Malone stood and jerked the door open, exchanging a few words with the woman on the other side, and accepting a thin stack of papers from her.

He turned back to the table, a faint expression of satisfaction on this face.

"Our data people have managed to discover a bit about Ringer's older work history." He dropped the pages onto the table. "There isn't much. Apparently no official tax information pertaining to his employment has been filed in several years. He doesn't even apparently have a bank account. And he's dropped out of sight of the IRS as well, which is certainly an interesting twist. However, several years ago his W2 form linked him to a self-owned corporation whose CEO and only additional employee was a Robert Andrews."

Sam and Frayley stiffened and exchanged glances.

"Take a look at this list, Bailey." Frayley handed his boss a copy of the page he and Sam had been distributing.

Daniel glanced at his own copy, brows arching as he read the words. His own exclamation coincided with a sharp expletive from Jack.

At the top of the list, he saw "Alpha: Robert Andrews." Interesting. But what had caught his, and he assumed Jack's, attention was the second name on the list. "Beta: Theodore Brecker."

"Shit, shit, *shit*!" Jack surged to his feet and began to pace in the small space between the table and the glass wall. "Brecker!"

Sam was nodding grimly. "Yes, sir."

"I take it you're familiar with that name, Colonel?"

Jack stopped pacing long enough to meet Malone's stern gaze.

"Oh, yeah. I know who the little weasel is. He *was* NID. Now vanished with the rest of the rogue scum."

"Colonel O'Neill." Doctor Waters's gentle voice soothed after the harshness of Jack's anger. "Perhaps you could explain enough for this to make sense."

Jack drew a deep breath and held it for a long moment, then sank back into his seat.

"Okay, people, it's like this. Like Malone, here, told you, we're part of a top secret military organization. One of the factions of the government that oversees and *interferes* with us is the NID. They're a sort of official conspiracy-mongering organization."

"Sir."

"Shut up, Carter. You know I'm right. Plots under every rock, fanatics behind every door. They're underhanded, devious and slimy."

"Sounds about right," Daniel murmured.

"Damn right it does. Anyway, a coupla years ago we discovered that a whole bunch of these guys-who, did I mention, are already pretty whacked out?-had gone rogue. They were working on their own agenda, inside the NID. When they were exposed and supposedly rooted out, they just slithered into the woodwork and into business for themselves. Brecker was one of them. The bastard used to be part of an organization that had access to anything they wanted in our database."

Sam was nodding. "It's pretty clear that he's the reason they were able to acquire all of these restricted documents."

Malone was scowling. "That means he's essentially committing treason."

"Oh, yeah." Jack leaned forward and pounded the table gently. "And when we take these bozos down, Malone, he comes with us."

Daniel stared down at his folded hands. "You know," he mused, "It's kind of odd."

"*Kind* of odd?"

He turned and smiled into Jack's incredulous face. "Yes. Don't you think so? I mean... Think about what else is in that database. Think about what we *do*, Jack, and tell me you don't think it's strange that this stuff is what he chose to obsess over."

Sam laughed. "He's right, sir. Of all the things..."

Jack held up his index finger. "Aht! Carter, watch it."

She shrugged. "Yes, sir. But I'm just saying..."

Daniel glanced around the table, cheeks warming in embarrassment as he took in the fascination on the faces of the FBI people.

"Um. Sorry. Just letting my mind wander a bit."

Frayley shook his head sharply. "Okay, as fascinating and mysterious as all this is, back to the issue, here. We looked over this site for quite a while. There's a ton of it, so there's a lot we haven't seen yet, but we did discover quite a bit about this group's strange view of humanity. Their 'council' is supposedly some sort of elite group of elevated individuals, with Alpha being at the top of the heap. The ever-popular 'chosen ones' clique. Not an uncommon fantasy for religious groups. We never found exactly what the criteria were supposed to be for earning membership in this inner circle."

"Probably being good buddies with this Alpha character." John Grant tapped his finger on the leading name on the list. "Or, better yet, contributing a lot of money to his favorite religious charity."

"Or a lot of fuel for his particular delusions," Sam added. "Brecker might have done both."

"We actually found some orphaned web pages, left over from an older version of the site. Looks like Andrews got a head start over the others. The older pages are a lot more primitive in design, and a lot more typical of the other kook sites we found when we first started looking for sites related to Doctor Jackson's publications. The only individual mentioned in those pages is Alpha, and there's none of the personality-centered flavor of the later site."

"So this bastard's the one who really kicked things up to a higher level." Jack was again scowling at Brecker's name.

"Probably. It was probably his addition of Doctor Jackson's more recent writing that changed the focus of the group. The modern site lists 'Gamma'-Mark Graham-as web master. We looked into him. He's a computer guy-got his degree from IIT in Chicago, specializing in electronics communication. Getting him into the group is what probably led to the bigger, fancier, web page."

"Bigger, fancier, more offensive," Daniel whispered.

"That, too. We did some poking around this Andrews character. One way and another, there's a lot of money and property connected to him. A lot of it is indirect, and linked through several levels of ownership, but I'd guess he has a lot of money at his disposal."

"Okay, so how does this Sigma character fit in." Jack was scowling down at the stack of papers sitting in front of him.

"We don't really have a concrete connection, sir, but..." Sam ruffled through her copies and pulled out a page printed from the web site. "As George told you, these guys aren't shy about their view of the structure of human society. They are the elite. The rest of us are pretty much divided into two groups. Most of humanity would fit into the 'upsilon' category."

Jack's brows twitched. "I'm taking it that's not very complimentary."

"Correct, sir. We're all pretty much the dregs. Of inferior intellect and value. Excepting Daniel, of course." She grinned across the table, and Daniel did his best to respond appropriately. But he wasn't feeling much like smiling.

"So we're all oopsies." Jack waved his hand vaguely. "And...?"

"A small number of upsilons apparently achieved a somewhat higher status be serving as aides to the council members."

"Oh, I'm just waiting for this one. Can I guess what they're called?"

"You'd be right, Colonel. Sigmas." Frayley's long index finger stabbed several times at the scattered papers. "And there are some references here and there in Andrews's own contributions to the web site to the services of someone he called his 'sigma primary.' Though there's nothing concrete here to really support the assumption, we both..." he gestured toward Sam. "...Figure he's referring to Mr. Sigma. Ringer."

Doctor Waters was nodding slowly, gaze fixed on the pages she'd been reading through as Sam and Frayley talked. "That makes sense. It also sheds light on the manner of his death." Dropping the sheets onto the table, she leaned back and gazed, unfocused, at the wall across the room. "As I said, there were none of the usual indications associated with a suicide-no suggestion of despair or impulse. A very deliberate and planned self-execution."

Daniel shivered. "That's a pretty strange way to put it, Doctor Waters."

"But appropriate, I think." She met his eyes and smiled with gentle sympathy. "These documents reveal an organization of fanatics. These men have become so enthralled with their fantasy that it's driven any meaningful connection to reality out of their perceptions. And experience tells us that it isn't just the leaders of cults who become infused with altered perceptions of reality. The acolytes become just as obsessed, if not more so."

Grant was nodding, lips tight. "Oh, yeah. Nine-eleven. The most devoutly religious people on those planes were the ones who flew them into those buildings."

"A sadly extreme example, but exactly what I'm talking about. That's a situation in which the actual leader of the group is probably much *less* devoted to the supposed religious beliefs used to justify the acts of atrocity than his followers, but their fervent devotion drove them to commit acts which, to outside eyes, were completely irrational and outrageous. "

"So..." Daniel shifted uncomfortably. "You think it was devotion that drove Ringer to kill himself?"

"We see here indications of a long association between him and Andrews. The lack of actual tax documentation probably indicates a much more intimate relationship than simple employment. I would see Ringer as much more a disciple than an employee. As is often true of extreme cults, these "Enlightened" demonstrate a significant degree of paranoia. And not only did Ringer fail, at least twice, to carry out his task of acquiring Doctor Jackson, he was compromised when we captured Campbell's group. They knew his face."

A tight knot of tension choked Daniel's throat. "You're saying that he did this because of..."

"Not because of you, Doctor Jackson." She leaned across the table to place a cool hand on his tightly clenched fist. "Because he'd surrendered his reason to an irrational cult. Because... well, pretty much because 'God told him to do it.'"

"You know, I still don't get that part of it." Grant was scowling at a copy of that outrageous portrait of the younger Daniel Jackson. "I get the fanatic religious cult thing, and I even get the thing about pretty much worshiping Doctor Jackson. After all, they figured he was playing Joseph Smith-getting messages from-oh, I guess from 'on high.'" He waved the picture above his head. "But why the hell did they figure they needed to *kidnap* him?"

Damn. Daniel could feel the fine tremors quivering through his extremities. He'd thought he was through with the reaction part of this.

He felt that warm hand back on his thigh, and drew a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He was fine. Fine.

"That's a damned good question," Malone growled. "And according to what Doctor Jackson discovered from the organizing committee of the conference he was here to attend, it was deliberate and planned."

Daniel nodded. "The planners had no more idea who 'Quincy Zeta' was than I did. The abstract for his presentation was submitted through the mail, with apparently sound references, and apparently from a reputable parent organization. They had no reason to suspect he was anything other than authentic. They weren't wild about accepting a paper on the subject, but in the interests of fairness decided they should give him the opportunity to be heard." He could hear the sharp edge to his voice. He doubted that the committee would have been so courteous if the paper proposal had come from Daniel Jackson. "They hadn't even really noticed that he'd never appeared to speak, as very few of the conference members were apparently planning to attend. They received no complaints, other than from the person who'd been tagged to present Doctor Zeta."

"So the logical conclusion is that this presentation was submitted as a deliberate lure to bring Doctor Jackson to Atlanta, presumably to put him within easy range for kidnapping. But that doesn't explain *why*."

"The information on the web site explains, Bailey." Frayley tugged another page out of the stack of printouts and pushed it toward Malone. "It's part of their strange mythos. You see, these guys have convinced themselves that they're fated to leave the rest of us behind."

"Ugh." Grant shivered. "Heaven's Gate."

Frayley grinned. "Something like that, but these bozos had no intention of *dying* to do it. Apparently, they figured that Doctor Jackson would slowly come to realize his destiny and would come to *them*. And when he arrived, he'd introduce them to whoever it was he'd been talking to, and lead them all to Enlightenment."

"He was supposed to just *come*?" Jack's voice rose on the final word.

"Yes, sir," Sam replied. "But they were beginning to get a bit impatient when he didn't show any signs of discovering his true purpose in life."

Daniel scowled at her, and she had the grace to stifle the hint of laughter in her face.

"Sorry, Daniel. But it is pretty funny."

"Especially if you *know* Daniel," Jack added. This time the hand was patting his shoulder.

Daniel shifted his frown to Jack.

"Just what are you implying, Colonel O'Neill."

"I'm not implying anything, Daniel. If those idiots had actually known anything about you, they'd have been fully aware that you *never* do what's expected of you."

"I do too!"

"Never." Jack's head was shaking slowly back and forth. "Never, Dannyboy. You do what's needed, what you know is right, and frequently you do much *more* than is expected of you. But you never do anything simply because you're supposed to do it."

Suddenly aware of the fascinated attention of the FBI team, Daniel flushed and shrank back in his seat.

"Ah, well-Yes!" Frayley cleared his throat. "Anyway, several months ago, something happened that seemed to really excite them."

Sam shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Sir..." she interrupted Frayley, gaze fixed meaningfully on Jack's face. "These men expected to *ascend* under the leadership of their omega-Daniel."

Jack's expression darkened. "Shit!" he exclaimed, lurching to his feet to resume pacing. "Goddamn it!"

This time Daniel did allow his head to drop to rest on his folded hands.

"Colonel?" Malone's voice was grim.

"Look, Agent Malone. This really, *really* falls into that 'need to know' category. And you don't. Need to know, that is. Let's just say that Daniel had an... interesting experience a few months ago. And let's just also say that we can see why it might get these assholes all tiddly." Jack kicked the base of his chair before jerking it back into position and dropping down to sit. "Stupid, whacked-out sons of bitches!"

A long moment of silence was broken by the sound of Grant clearing his throat.

"So..." he said. "Where do we go now?"

Frustration sharpened Jack's voice. "We grab those bastards and throttle 'em!"

Daniel lifted his head, staring over Doctor Waters's blond hair at the glare reflected from the glass wall.

"How?" He drew the word out slowly. "We don't know where to *find* them, Jack."

Sam reached across to grip the wrist of his good arm.

"George and I have been doing some screening of the properties linked to Andrews. None are obviously residences; most of them are dedicated to the various businesses he owns. But we've tagged three that don't seem to have any obvious function. We thought..."

Malone was nodding. "We'll check them out. If this group functions like a religion, it stands to reason they'll have some center of operations-a temple, if you want to call it that. I think that's our next step. Doctor Jackson, I can vouch for the sofa in my office. Get some rest. We'll call you when we're ready to go further."

Daniel met the older man's eyes, then bobbed his head. If he looked anything like he felt, they probably expected him to drop where he stood. He doubted he could sleep, but putting his head down for a few hours was an increasingly attractive notion. He yielded to the pressure of Jack's hand on his elbow and stood, letting his partner guide him into the hall and presumably toward the promised couch.

* * *

Jack almost gave in to the impulse to sneak back out the door and leave his partner to get a few more hours' rest. Even asleep, Daniel's brow was creased with pain and stress.

However, he knew the kind of grief the archaeologist would give him if he yielded.

He cast a quick glance around to assure privacy, then leaned over and brushed a soft kiss over Daniel's relaxed lips. He threaded his fingers into tousled hair, stroking slowly as Daniel fought his way toward awareness.

"Hey," he whispered.

"Hey." Daniel's voice was rough and scratchy. He yawned, then winced.

Jack reached for the glass of water he'd placed on the desk. "Here, pal. Down the hatch."

For a moment, he thought Daniel was going to refuse the offered pain medication. But an incautious movement apparently reminded him of his injuries, and he accepted the tablets, tossing them into his mouth and reaching for the water to chase them.

"You ready for another session in the conference room, Daniel?"

Daniel sighed, stretched carefully, and swung his feet off the couch.

"They have more information?"

"Oh, yeah. I think we're getting there. Finally."

He offered his arm, bracing against Daniel's weight as the other man levered himself to his feet.

"Well, I have to admit I'm ready for this experience to be finished. Let's get to it."

* * *

Jack felt a smile trying to shape his lips. He loved this feeling. The air in the conference room almost crackled with the increased tension. They'd reached the end of this. He knew it. They were at point, and the next step would be the active culmination. And was he ever ready to crack heads.

He stared at the photograph of the plain, nearly anonymous building front. Nearly. Above the double doors of the entrance there was painted a single golden symbol, eighteen inches high, apparently innocuous. Just the simple, inverted "u" of the Greek letter omega.

Gotcha.

"We sent one of our agents to attempt entry under the pretence of being lost and needing assistance. The inner door is a security door, covered by surveillance cameras, and accessible only with the cooperation of someone already inside the building. Cooperation which was not offered, incidentally. Agent Matthews was dismissed summarily. The person at the other end of the intercom was... curt."

Jack cocked his head at Malone.

"This has got to be the place."

"Agreed. The other two structures appear to be space-for-rent storage buildings. We found no evidence of anything suspicious in either. So, the question becomes, how do we gain entry?"

"We break the damned door down!"

"No, Jack." Daniel was again gazing into the distance, brow furrowed in thought. "Just because Agent Malone's people only discovered one way in doesn't mean there aren't others. These people are paranoid and irrational. I'm betting there's more than one private way out of that building. If you charge in, battering down the door, they're just going to sneak out the back way. We need to get to them before they realize who we are."

"The entrance is covered by a camera, Daniel. No way are we getting at that door without them knowing we're coming."

"Well, maybe we need to send someone they *want* to let in the door."

It took a few seconds for Jack to realize what Daniel was suggesting.

"The hell you will! No way, Daniel. You're the pigeon they've wanted all along. No *way* are we dropping you into their laps!"

"I have to agree, Doctor Jackson. You're a civilian, and you're injured. They'd never allow you through the door if you were accompanied, so there's no way we could provide protection."

Daniel ignored Jack, turning his earnest gaze toward Malone. And Jack knew very well how hard it was to refuse those big blue eyes.

"Agent Malone, I'm not a civilian. Not really. And despite what Jack likes to imply, I'm not helpless. I can't see any other way you're going to get into that building and get to these people without being detected."

Malone scowled. "Out of the question, Doctor. I won't allow you to put yourself in that kind of jeopardy. We will find another way."

"Actually, Bailey, it's a good idea."

Jack glared across the table at Grant, who raised his hands, palms out in defensive supplication.

"Don't shoot, Colonel. But I think this is a workable plan. And I saw those two grunts after they took on Doctor Jackson, here. He's right; he isn't helpless."

"John, we can't send a civilian into this kind of situation! An *injured* civilian!"

"Damn right!" Jack snapped. "Daniel, just forget it, okay?"

"No. It's the best way."

"I'm afraid I agree, Bailey, Colonel O'Neill." Doctor Waters tilted her head, casting an apologetic glance toward Malone. "I suspect these men will welcome Doctor Jackson with joy. *They* never intended to harm him. According to John, Mister Sigma was quite upset when he discovered the injuries Doctor Jackson received when he was captured. He should be able to walk right into their midst without any problems. And once they open the door to him, he could easily disable the locks."

"Right!" Grant tapped his finger sharply on the pictured doorway. "And they'll be so occupied by Daniel dropping right into their hands that they won't be paying much attention to the cameras on the door. We should be able to walk right in. These guys aren't hardened criminals. And they've been *expecting* him to realize what they see as his destiny, and join them of his own accord. They've just resorted to trying to speed things up a bit."

"Granted the plan could work," Bailey agreed. "But it's still out of the question. We can't allow Doctor Jackson to..."

"It isn't an issue of what you'll allow me to do, Agent Malone." Daniel met Malone's fierce glare with characteristic truculence. "All I have to do is walk out the door of this building, grab a taxi, and present myself to their cameras. You can follow, or not. I'm offering you a way to resolve this problem with minimal violence. Hopefully with *no* violence. Your only other alternative is to charge in, guns blazing. These men aren't dangerous criminals. They're just... confused."

"Damnit, they're *fanatics*, Daniel! Religious fanatics! They don't think, they react. They aren't rational, they aren't going to negotiate. They're completely unpredictable!"

"Are they?" Daniel met Jack's furious gaze. "Fanatics, yes. Irrational, yes. But predictable, I think also yes. Jack, we've been dealing with religious fanatics for years, now. Just how much did it take for Teal'c to turn against his gods? And he's an exceptional man, no matter where he comes from. That's pretty much what it would take for these men to raise their hands against me. At least initially. You'll have plenty of time to grab them all before they come to terms with the idea that their... Omega has arrived under false pretenses."

Jack threaded his fingers through his short hair, jerking furiously.

"Damnit, Daniel!"

"Doctor Jackson..."

"I'm sorry, Agent Malone. This is the only way."

Malone stared at Daniel for a long moment, then turned to Jack. "Is he always like this?"

"You have no idea. You just have no damned idea. And when he gets this way...? Well, unless you're willing to lock him up, you'd better go along with him. Because when he says he'll walk out that door and do it anyway, you can absolutely count on him being completely serious. Come to think of it, as attractive as it sounds, locking him up still probably wouldn't stop him."

Once again scowling at Daniel, Malone nodded sharply. "I don't like this, Doctor Jackson. I don't like having my hand forced, and my better judgment tells me you shouldn't have any part in this. As it seems I have no particular choice, I guess we have a plan."

Jack groaned and lowered his head, bouncing his forehead against the fists he'd clenched on the tabletop. Had he really been gloating over the possibility of seeing Bailey go head to head with his archaeologist?

Some day he'd learn. Getting what you ask for isn't always a good thing.

* * *

One tiny opportunity, and he knew he was going to scream in frustration.

Damned if Daniel hadn't been right. Again.

The excitement in the voice babbling over that intercom would have been hilarious if he hadn't been so busy wanting to strangle the whole stupid cult membership. Malone's people had wired Daniel up and down for sound, and they'd had heard every slobbering word. The idiots couldn't open that blasted door fast enough.

Daniel had disabled the lock via the high-tech action of slipping a prepared strip of duct tape over the edge of the door as he'd passed through. They'd waited just long enough for him to get away from the door, then calmly waltzed in without challenge or impediment. The pathetic little gathering had been so busy obsessing over Daniel that the assault team had simply each chosen a man, walked up and grabbed them. A little squealing and posturing, a bit of arrogant indignation, and it was all over.

And Jack never got to clobber anyone.

Hands on hips, he pivoted around, taking a long moment to absorb the excesses of the room. The cult had rebuilt the interior of the building, creating a perimeter of plush private rooms around a large, oval central area. Their chapel, he supposed. The only significant furniture in the room was an oversized horseshoe-shaped table, constructed of some dark, expensive-looking wood. Around the outside of the table were arranged seven luxuriously padded chairs, positioned opposite seven symbols inlaid into the surface of the table in a lighter wood-seven Greek letters. The central symbol... alpha. Big surprise.

All along the wall behind the horseshoe table was a built-in ledge, about three feet high, constructed of the same rich dark wood as the table. Lovingly displayed along this shelf were about fifteen big, heavy books, each bound in deep brown leather, with gold-embossed titles.

But what really made the room was the wall art. Directly opposite Alpha's station at the table, many times bigger than life, was that exaggerated portrait of Daniel, backed by that gilded pyramid. The extravagant painting continued completely around the room above the ledge, depicting glorified versions of the seven cult members, strolling along on fluffy clouds with what appeared to be some of those heavy leather-bound books open in their hands, bodies glowing, heads adorned with what looked suspiciously like the haloes seen in medieval religious artwork. It was pretentious, overblown, self-aggrandizing, while still managing to be trite and corny. Quite a feat, if you thought about it.

Snorting in derision, Jack turned back to the squabbling cult members. He was going to get at least some satisfaction out of this farce. Grimly, he elbowed his way through the FBI agents surrounding the prisoners. Shoving himself far into the personal space of a short, pudgy man, he bent down to breathe into the schmuck's face.

"Brecker," he growled.

"O'Neill!" the weasel squeaked.

"We have a few things to talk about, don't we? Like the meaning of Top Secret. Like treason. Like the fact that *you kidnapped my archaeologist, you piece of shit!*"

"How dare you address your better in such a way!"

Jack stiffened and turned to face the man who stood rigidly in John Grant's hold. Slowly, putting as much insolent disrespect into his expression as possible, he allowed his gaze to travel down, then back up the man's tall, thin body.

"Oh, you I wanna deal with. Let me guess. Alpha, right? Head baboon in this particular monkey house?"

The man jerked against Grant's hold. "You have no right! You are interfering in affairs far beyond your puny comprehension!"

"Oh, that's right. 'Cause I'm an oopsie, right?"

"You are indeed an upsilon! Incapable of understanding issues beyond your base biological functioning! Higher affairs are simply not within your ability. You cannot impede our ascension! It is our destiny!"

Jack laughed harshly. This moron could audition for membership in the Gentlemen Goa'uld's club. He talked just like them... in exclamation points.

"Your destiny? But not without my help, right?" Jack felt the warmth of Daniel's breath brush the right side of his face.

"Omega! You finally understood! You came to us! Send these insignificants away and let us proceed with the ascension!"

Daniel moved forward to stand beside Jack. There was a hard, angry edge to his voice. "No. You haven't the faintest idea what you're really talking about, and there's no way you'd meet the standards required for what you want. You're going to jail. Then you're probably going somewhere nice and comfy where they'll help you deal with your... issues."

Jack smiled grimly. He knew precisely Daniel's opinion of the kind of place Alpha's bizarre obsessions were liable to send him.

"This is inconceivable! What have you done to corrupt the essence of the Omega? Cretins! Beasts! To sully such purity!"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Oh, puh-leeze!"

"Silence, upsilon! You will answer for such crimes! That you could..."

Daniel made a small, harsh sound, then lashed out with his fisted right hand. Alpha dropped like a stone.

"Shut. Up." Daniel's voice was barely above a whisper.

Jack leaned over slightly to stare down at the motionless body.

"Nice shot, Doctor Jackson. Helpless. Right."

Jack joined Grant in laughter, elbow poking Daniel very carefully in the ribs.

"Yeah, nice shot, Dannyboy. Who needs two good arms?"

* * *

Epilogue

"Yessir. Right."

Jack used his free hand to swat at the fingers sneaking toward the last strip of bacon on his plate. He scowled with menacing intent at the surprised hurt in Daniel's face.

"Malone's got most of the cult members. Not sure just what they're gonna charge them with. Conspiracy to commit kidnapping, maybe, but I'm not sure exactly how they're gonna actually tie them to that without the go-between, and he offed himself."

This time he grabbed, imprisoning those marauding digits.

"Yes. I packaged up Brecker and sent him off to you. Have fun. Oh, and sir... there's a bunch of stuff I've sent along. Evidence. Let 'em photograph it and stuff, but hang on to it until we get back, would you? I want some of it myself. I think you'll understand when you see it. Right."

He grinned at Hammond's irritated reply, tightening his hold on the jerking fingers.

"You'll get it, sir, once you see what I've sent you. Yes..."

He stiffened slightly in surprise, inadvertently releasing Daniel's hand.

"Tomorrow, sir? I figured... Oh, he did? And why...Okay, that'll be fine, sir. See you in a couple of days. Thanks. It was ever so much fun." He tapped the "End" button on the phone, still puzzling over the general's instructions. His attention snapped back to the breakfast table just in time to see the final inch of his disputed bacon vanish between Daniel's smug lips. "Hey!"

Daniel swallowed the last bit. "Oh, did you want that?" The wide-eyed innocence was a work of art.

Jack scowled. "Oh, no. Help yourself. Ya want the rest of my omelet?"

"No thanks." Daniel considered Jack's plate, brow furrowed in concentration. "I really hate mushrooms. You should order without mushrooms."

The laughter felt good.

"What's mine is yours, oh master. I'll consider more carefully next time."

"Does that mean I can have your orange slice, sir?"

Jack scowled across the table at his 2IC. "You just consumed an entire grapefruit, Major. And you're lusting after my quarter-inch thick slice of orange?"

She shrugged, grinning. "So I like my vitamin C, sir."

"Right. Vitamin C. You just like stealing from your commanding officer."

"What did you send to General Hammond, Jack?"

"Oh, just... stuff. Evidence." Jack waved his hand vaguely. "Stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

Jack stifled the chuckle that fought to escape. "You'll see. When we get back to the mountain."

Daniel would either hit the roof or go speechless with delight. Jack had been bowled over by those damned books. Eighteen leather-bound, lavishly illuminated collections of "The Texts of the Ascended." Pages and pages of heavy, gold-edged paper filled with the writings of one Doctor Daniel Jackson. He'd bet his house no archaeologist in the world owned such an impressive collection of his own papers. But he'd make as big a stink as he had to making sure Daniel got to keep those books. Whether he wanted them or not.

He could see the glint of determination in those blue eyes. Time for a diversion.

"You going to tell me just why we're hanging around here until tomorrow afternoon? Hammond said you asked for an extra couple of days. I'd have thought you'd want to see the end of Atlanta as soon as possible."

Daniel's gaze dropped to his own plate.

"And just why are we *here*, anyway?" Jack gestured to the surrounding tables, most of them occupied by the tweed and khaki crowd of the conference Daniel had come to attend.

Defiant blue eyes met his. "I'm not going back without accomplishing *something*, Jack. I can still try to finish one of the tasks I set myself. Besides..." He glanced across to Carter. "Sam wanted... she..."

Jack turned to stare at Carter, brows lifted. To his surprise, an attractive pink colored her cheeks.

"Carter?"

"Well, sir. I... There was..."

"Morning, folks. How are you feeling Doctor Jackson?"

Jack felt his jaw drop. Beside him, Daniel rose partway to his feet, offering his hand to the man who'd appeared beside Sam's chair.

"Good morning, Agent Grant. I'm feeling much better, thank you."

Astonished, Jack watched the color in Carter's cheeks deepen as the FBI man lowered himself into the seat next to her.

"You ready to go, Sam?"

Avoiding Jack's eyes, Carter nodded. "All ready."

"Great!"

"Carter?"

"Well, sir. I..."

"Sam's got plans for the day, Jack."

Jack turned to meet Daniel's once-again innocent gaze.

"Plans."

"Yes, sir."

He turned back to Carter, and couldn't help responding to the dazzling smile on her face.

"Right. Plans. With Grant."

"Yessir."

"Oh. Okay." He leaned back, crossing his arms and glaring at Grant. "You have her back by midnight, you hear?"

"Colonel!"

Daniel laughed gently. "Better go before he starts asking what your intentions are, John."

With a grin, Grant assisted Carter to her feet and escorted her toward the exit. Carter waved brightly over her shoulder, then slipped her hand through her escort's arm.

"Well, I'll be damned."

"Jack, surely you noticed."

"Noticed what? Carter and Grant making googly eyes at each other? Can't say I did."

"They didn't make 'googly eyes' at each other! But there was definitely some dancing going on. You just didn't see it."

"Well, I was just concentrating on business."

"Uh huh. Right."

Jack stroked the back of Daniel's hand. "Important business, Daniel. The most important."

Daniel's chin ducked at the confirmation of his importance to Jack, and Jack took advantage of his partner's distraction to appropriate the wedge of wheat toast sitting on Daniel's plate.

"Hey!"

"You snooze, you lose, buddy. Besides, turnabout, ya know?"

Daniel shook his head, mouth pursed in mock annoyance. Then he stiffened, gaze fixed on the entrance to the coffee shop.

Jack turned to search for whatever had caught Daniel's attention. Three men were waiting at the entrance for the hostess to escort them to tables.

Daniel rose to his feet, lifting his hand to catch the attention of the youngest of the three. After a short exchange of silent signals, the young man left the doorway, weaving through the tables toward their corner of the room.

"Doctor Jackson. I thought you'd left the conference." The stranger's gaze drifted past the bruises on Daniel's face and down to the casted left arm. "What...?"

"Just had a little... accident." Daniel glanced toward Jack. "Jack, this is Doctor Henry Alanson. Doctor Alanson, Colonel Jack O'Neill."

"Colonel?" Alanson's right eyebrow arched.

Jack reached out to shake the man's hand. "Yep. U. S. Air Force. I take it you're an archaeologist."

He nodded, staring at Jack.

"Please." Daniel waved toward an empty chair. "Join us."

"You've already finished your breakfast."

Daniel grinned. "But not our coffee. We'll be here for a while."

"Oh, yeah." Jack rolled his eyes. "Daniel, here, can turn coffee into an all-day event."

For a long moment, Alanson hesitated, brow furrowed as he stared at Daniel.

"Please," Daniel repeated. "I've got something I really want to talk to you about. Something wonderful."

"Something to do with the Air Force?"

"Yes. But please don't walk away without hearing me out. Trust me. You can't imagine..."

Alanson stared into Daniel's face, tongue sweeping over his lower lip. And Jack knew he was sunk. It would take a tougher man than this fledgling rock-digger to resist those earnest blue eyes.

Finally, with a curt little nod, Alanson pulled out the chair and sat.

"So, tell me about this wonderful thing."

* * *

Grinning, Jack leaned back against the closed door and watched Daniel carefully stretch and shrug out of his jacket.

"So, you think he'll show?"

Daniel turned and smiled at him. "I do. He was trying hard to look indifferent, but he's really intrigued. He'll be coming back to Colorado with us. I've already sent his details to the Mountain, and his security screen came back clean. I've warned them he's coming with us, so they'll be setting up a preliminary briefing. I think he'll join us. And I think he'll be a real asset."

Jack moved away from the door and slid his arms around Daniel's tender ribs.

"That leaves us with most of today and tomorrow morning. Just what would you like to do, Doctor Jackson?"

"Sleep sounds good."

"Sleep? No museums? No visits to the local universities? No local digs to explore?"

"Nope. Sleep. Well, bed, anyway. Maybe not *just* sleeping."

Jack grinned, tightening his arms a bit. They'd had a pretty great night, despite Daniel's aches and exhaustion. Tame, but nice.

But Daniel was feeling a lot better.

"So, I take it you wouldn't be adverse to a bit of company while you're... not sleeping."

Daniel chuckled and nuzzled his face into Jack's neck.

"Not adverse. And maybe, in between sleeping and... not sleeping... Well, this hotel has a pretty nice Jacuzzi."

"Ooh, Jacuzzi. There's an idea I could really get my brain around. In between, you know."

Daniel's right hand crept up, fingers threading into Jack's short hair.

"In between," he whispered, closing in for a long, soft kiss.

~ende~


End file.
